


Tonight, We Are Golden

by L0stInSpace



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Olympics, Coming Out, Established Relationship, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27135013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L0stInSpace/pseuds/L0stInSpace
Summary: A loud cry of “Royaume-Uni” made its way through the speakers, before the Parisian crowds erupted into another cheer, the huddle of athletes taking their steps forward down the tunnel, into the Stade De France. The lights were almost blinding as George faced the crowd, cameras flashing wherever he looked, led’s changing into a blossom of technicolour, the atmosphere was unlike anything he’d ever played witness to beforehand. It was if he was in a state of lucidity, not quite there, the feeling simply too unreal to process, but the feeling of Lando and Alex’s arms around his shoulders reminded him: this is very much real.Let the games begin.
Relationships: Alexander Albon/Lando Norris, Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen, Esteban Ocon/Lance Stroll, Nicholas Latifi/George Russell
Comments: 55
Kudos: 50





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scarletred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletred/gifts).



> Hellooooo guys! After about 4 1/2 months in the works, I am so proud to finally get this uploaded and complete! I am so so thankful to everyone who's been there for me on this writing journey, honestly I'm so thankful to everyone. I really really hope you all enjoy this, it's been absolutely amazing to write this and I just hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing this!

He could hear the crowds from the holding area, even over the pounding bassline of the music pumping over the speakers. It wouldn’t be long until his country was called to walk into the stadium, but the more he thought about it, the quicker his heart started to beat; 21 years in the making, this was. For as long as he’d known, reaching the Olympics was his only goal, nothing else would do, so to be stood in the backstage holding area, donned in the famous red white and blue, union jack strewn over his shoulders, it was a dream come true for George.

Beside him were Alex and Lando, 2 of the swimmers from Team GB, some of the country’s best medal hopes for the games. The 3 of them had grown up together on the aquatics programme, all junior world champions in some capacity, tipped for great things on the senior level - whilst Alex and Lando had followed through with multiple world championship medals, George was left with nothing, injuries always stopping him in his tracks. He had it all to prove, being his first games without injury, and he wasn’t about to let this opportunity go without a fight, he’d do everything in his power to ensure the gold was his, there was no other way for these games to end. 

The music choice had some of the athletes dancing a little, George could see a couple of the Romanian team ahead of them moving their hips slightly to the songs blasted over the speakers. It took him back to the time where he, Lando and Alex all went viral at the world championships, caught on camera dancing along to the music, Lando even being caught doing the sprinkler dance move, something the fans couldn't forget 3 years down the line. It was just his luck that the exact same song was currently blasting over the speakers, and that the speakers announced that they’d be walking into the stadium in under a minute, meaning the cameras would quite possibly catch them dancing along to the song again. 

A loud cry of “Royaume-Uni” made its way through the speakers, before the Parisian crowds erupted into another cheer, the huddle of athletes taking their steps forward down the tunnel, into the Stade De France. The lights were almost blinding as George faced the crowd, cameras flashing wherever he looked, led’s changing into a blossom of technicolour, the atmosphere was unlike anything he’d ever played witness to beforehand. It was if he was in a state of lucidity, not quite there, the feeling simply too unreal to process, but the feeling of Lando and Alex’s arms around his shoulders reminded him:  _ this is very much real. _

Lando, of course, was yelling along to every word of the song, swaying his hips in a way that could rival Shakira, to the amusement of his companions. Yelling out the hook of “I just came to say hello!”, he started to bounce from foot to foot again, Alex joining him as they both also waved to the crowds, trying to enjoy the moment as best as possible. George sighed at the 2 idiots beside him, but couldn’t help but also laugh, knowing it was so typical of them to be acting like this. And soon enough, he also had a spring in his step, dancing along in the athletes parade, alongside his 2 best friends, the best company he could have wished for. 

He continued to lap in the atmosphere as the minutes went on, the circle around the stadium never ending, even if it wasn’t more than 5 minutes total. It was a total state of euphoria, nothing could have ever compared for George, his life’s dream unravelling in front of his eyes. But as much as he would’ve loved to admit this was the peak, he knew that a gold medal or 2 would be much sweeter, hearing God Save The Queen played solely for him, all the images he’d conjured in his mind on the brink of becoming a reality, destiny was now in his hands. 

_ Let the games begin.  _ __  
__  
\---

The next morning, George’s head was still pounding, trying to come off the high from the night before. His alarm blared through the room at a shrill high pitch, and with a groan he switched it off, getting up out the bed soon afterwards, opening the curtains to let the sunlight in. The view from his room was nothing short of stunning, the Parisian skyline almost painted golden, Eiffel Tower jutting out between the buildings, creating a beacon of light over the city. He’d always loved the city, having been home to many fond memories, but that was the past, this was the present day and he was set to create newer, better memories now.

Hurrying down the stairs, he arrived in the cafeteria with time to spare, set to meet his synchro partner for breakfast before they trained that day, ahead of competition the day after. George knew the sheer significance of this competition, and it wasn’t just a milestone for him, it probably meant more to his right hand man, who was none other than Tom Daley himself. He’d been trusted with the task of being Tom’s synchro partner in his last games, and George wanted to give Tom the gold he’d been so close to achieving before, knowing just how much an Olympic medal meant. It put the pressure on him to perform, knowing Britain’s most successful diver was his synchro partner, but he had faith he’d rise to the occasion, there was nothing else acceptable in his mind. 

A tap on his shoulder brought his attention back to the current situation, being greeted by Tom’s smiling face as he looked up, as well as their coaches standing a further distance away. With a polite wave, George got up off the chair, walking towards the team car that would drive them to the venue, getting the chance to practice their list and size up the opposition. George knew their list and knew how well they could execute it, winning multiple World Series medals over the course of the last 2 years. But none of those could even compare to an Olympic medal, even if it was only a bronze, it would still mean much more in his mind.

The drive wasn’t a long one, but it gave him enough time to focus his intentions fully, so by the time he got into the aquatic centre’s gym, he was ready for the day’s training, both in and out the pool. It started off with the usual exercises, already knowing his coach’s cardio routine off by heart, and by the time he finished off all his reps, his white team shirt was stuck firmly to his figure, sweat glowing across his skin as a result. Seeing no use for the item, he discarded it before progressing to the foam pit drills alongside Tom, preparing all their take-offs ahead of competition. It had become a bit of a joke amongst the fans that the pair of them always had their shirts off, but the reality was that genuinely, shirts were nothing but a needless piece of fabric, and nobody really minded if they went without one. In fact, the fans always begged for more, even if they never received it, and George was well aware that he’d garnered the reputation for never owning shirts, despite wishing he’d be more known for his talent than his body. 

Confidence grew in the Team GB camp as training progressed to the pool, drills going exactly as the coaching staff expected. It was still early days, with many teams not showing their hand until the real competition, but they still believed that if the performance continued into the next day, a medal was well within reach. Of course, gold would never be an option, Chen Aisen and Cao Yuan were unstoppable, however anything more was still on the table, with about 6 pairings in contention, and only 2 medals at play. 

George quietly observed the other pairings as they prepared for their practice, noting how notorious Canadian diver Lance Stroll was sporting tape on his tricep, a result of an injury during the Canadian leg of the world series just months prior. It had been agonising to see him wince in pain after the last dive that night, he knew all too well just how much pulled muscles could hurt, especially the triceps, and he was amazed Lance was even there to compete just months later. It was a testament to his character though, he wouldn’t ever back down, George had been witness to this fierce resilience beforehand.

The decision still loomed about their final list, not quite decided about whether to drop the back 3 ½ pike in favour of the reserve 3 ½ tuck, knowing that in the end, a medal could come down to dive difficulty, the coaches anticipated it to be a hard fought battle. George still practiced both with Tom, relying on his counting before the takeoff, maneuvering his body into the oncoming somersaults, counting the rotations in his peripheral vision before kicking out, feeling the impact straight away on his wrists, but he knew he was more consistent with the reverse dive. It didn’t matter to the coaching staff, who submitted their final dive sheet with the backward 3 ½ pike on it -  _ go big or go home I guess,  _ George thought after seeing the final verdict. 

In the evening, after training, George stuck around at the Olympic village, remembering Lando’s semi final, having made it through the heat with little difficulty. George didn’t know too much about swimming, but he still wanted to be a good friend to Lando, so went along to the centre with Alex, holding a massive union jack to cheer him on. The atmosphere was almost homely, the familiar smell of chlorine combined with the tension in the air, to George it was eerily familiar, growing up on the aquatics team acclimatising him to the exact minor details of the pools. 

A small voice saying “excuse me?” drew George’s attention away from Alex, who was currently trying to explain what Lando would need to do to make the final tomorrow evening, which George would be missing due to his own competition. Turning to face the voice, he was met by a guy around his age, donning a white t-shirt, a little maple leaf emblazoned on the left breast. The guy was hesitantly smiling over at him, one hand nervously scratching the back of his neck, unsure whether he should’ve approached the pair. George met his eyes, and the first thing he noticed was the shade of brown, so rich and pure, framed with delicate lashes. Soft black curls lay atop his head, cropped into a short style, and George’s mind was already running rife with ideas and possibilities, a small blush adorning his cheeks at the thoughts. 

“Uh, hi?” George eventually stuttered back, politely smiling back at the Canadian stranger. He tried to keep his voice calm, eyes averted from his face, but it was to no avail, he was drawn into the man’s gravity without even trying. 

“Do you mind if I hop down in this spare seat to watch the events? I promise I’ll be no bother to you!” He asked, to which George immediately moved over to ensure he took the seat. Alex shakily laughed over at his compatriot afterwards, not missing the pink dusting on his cheeks as he talked to the stranger. It was no secret to him that George was gay, it just surprised him that already, less than 24 hours into their first Olympic games, he was already crushing on one of the athletes, one he didn’t even know the name of. He sighed, shaking his head,  _ only George could pull off something like this. _

“George.” Alex warned him when his attention turned away from the Canadian, George’s smile dropping momentarily as he faced his friend.

“He’s pretty, alright?” George argued, trying to fight his cause against Alex. He knew he had a bit of a reputation of being a flirt, but he was slowly trying to move on from this, growing up and trying to find a serious boyfriend as a result. He knew Alex wouldn’t buy the excuse though, still convinced that he was flirty and up for one night stands.

“He’s trouble, that’s what he is.” Alex stated simply, before turning his attention back to the pool, waiting for the moment Lando’s semi final started. 

It was about an hour later when the announcer signified the start of the event, and George was thanking his lucky stars that it wasn’t any later, he didn’t need a late night on the day before competition. Lando had qualified well from the heats, 4th fastest overall, and was looking in good shape to make it to the final. It was 2 lengths of the pool, fastest 3 per semi made it to the final, George understood that much. With bated breath, he waited until all the swimmers were on the start blocks, noticing Lando’s signature neon blue swimming cap in the middle of the field.

All he could focus on for the minute or so was the bobbing motion of everybody, trying to track where his friend was in the midst of the pack. He’d heard good things about his compatriot James Wilby, who was also vying for a place, and another notorious big hitter, Anton Chupkov, was also in the mix for that semi final, giving Lando a huge task of making the final. At halfway, it looked like the pink of the Russian cap had the advantage, and George was silently praying under his breath that Lando would be able to catch up and seal his place in the final, something he knew was one of the Brit’s biggest dreams. As the round of cheers ripped through the arena, George’s primary focus was on the scoreboard, hoping for a familiar name to come up in the top 3.

The moment the number 1 flashed up by Lando’s name, George let out an almighty roar of joy, Alex joining in with an enthusiastic cheer. Their union jack flew chaotically through the air, not once caring if it obstructed anyone, this was their childhood friend, who was now an Olympic finalist, on the verge of an Olympic medal. 

\---

Before Nicholas could even talk to the kind Brit next to him, he was out of sight, his friend leaving the athletes area with him. He’d wanted to at least introduce himself, but he’d made a hurried exit before any passing attempt could be made, resigning the man to a stranger once again, instead of the friend he could have been. 

He remembered piercing blue eyes, full lips and a bright smile, but nothing in the way of a name. There was something about the stranger to him, which kept pulling him in despite his brain saying no, and it was scaring him slightly. He just could not shake the image of the piercing blue eyes and soft brown hair, he just had to know who the man was and why he was so intoxicated by the stranger.

Sleeping on the issue didn’t help much. New day, same problem, the blue eyed Brit he couldn’t stop thinking about. He’d promised some of his friends he’d come down to the aquatics centre, but he was beginning to regret the decision, given there was only one fixation on his mind at the moment. And Lance knew from the moment he saw Nicky, there was something other than the showjumping on his mind.

“Bro, you made it!” Lance greeted him, throwing an arm over Nicholas’ shoulder as they met up at the venue entrance, secluded slightly from the crowds filing through the main doors. 

“How could I miss it! It’s your first games final, gotta be there for you!” Nicky replied, flashing an enthusiastic smile back towards the diver.

“Yeah, I’m not convinced you’re just here for me though.” Lance winked at him before walking off towards the changing area, leaving Nicholas dumbfounded in the entrance lobby, cheeks coated in a shade of crimson red.

He soon found his seats in the friends and family area, Lance’s boyfriend Esteban having saved him a seat already. He’d known the Frenchman for a while, ever since he knew Lance, it was sort of a package deal - wherever Lance went, Esteban would follow. It didn’t surprise him whatsoever when they got together as a couple, it was inevitable since the early days, and it was now just a matter of time before they announced the joyous news to the world.

“Nervous for your events?” Esteban asked him, knowing that he was scheduled to compete in the showjumping event in the later part of the games, a moment he’d been working towards for so long.

“I guess, but I’ve still got a couple weeks left. I’m training from next week, gotta keep Sophia Marilena in check before competition week. She could pull a shocker like the world champs last year, and we don’t want the princess pulling stunts at the Olympics do we?” He replied, remembering the nightmare that was the previous world championships. His horse, Sophia Marilena, just would not jump over the fences, leading to an embarrassing performance on home soil which certainly got the director of Canada’s equestrian team angered. He knew after that, he was lucky to still be on the team, he couldn’t afford a mistake like that again.

“Yeah, me & Lance will be down watching your competitions on days it doesn’t clash with the diving. I think we don’t have any clashes but I’m not sure. I’ve asked George & Tom if they want to come along too?” Esteban cheerfully proposed in return, trying to raise Nicholas’ spirits and distract his mind from the horrors of the year before, keeping him focused on the potential of the future, and the competition currently at hand. 

“Wait, which one’s George?” He asked, not really knowing who the Frenchman was referencing. Of course he knew who they were talking about, Tom Daley the legendary British diver. But George, that was a new name to him, not being too aware of the diving scene besides his friends’ exploits.

“Oh you don’t know him? You’d love him, Nicky.” Esteban enthusiastically responded to his question, before following up with “He’s actually Tom’s synchro partner tonight!” to pique Nicky’s interest further.

“I’ll keep an eye out for him, alright.” He replied, turning back to the pool, awaiting the announcement from the speakers, that the competition would be momentarily starting.

He watched the pairs walk out one by one, recognising the nations through the attire. Russia, France, Australia, USA, Canada at 5, China, Ukraine, and team GB last. As their names were called, the cheers from the audience rang out, reaching a deafening symphony at the announcement of France, something Nicholas and Esteban would rather not have played witness to. Their cheers were the loudest in their area at the announcement of the Canadian duo, Esteban particularly enthusiastic in support of his boyfriend, and he didn’t mind the dirty looks some of the people around him gave him, it wasn’t worth fussing over what one or two people thought of him. But as the final pair took their step forward, Nicholas couldn’t help but notice some similarity between the paler of the two men. And that’s when it clicked.

_ The man with the piercing blue eyes. _

Everything he’d tried to shut out his system for the past 24 hours, came flooding back that instant. Fate had handed him a lifeline it seemed, and not only could he see the Brit’s face again, but he now had a name for him, a name that rolled perfectly off his tongue. 

\---

George could feel the nerves creeping in, his heart hammering in his chest at the pure intensity of the situation. This was his moment, he had to help Tom to another Olympic medal, claim his first one too. He tried to regulate his breathing, anything to help stop the anxious feeling in his gut, but it just wouldn’t budge. It didn’t help that he was diving last either, having to wait until everyone else had gone before knowing if he’d medalled.

The first round was easy for him and Tom, reverse dive pike, something he could do in his sleep, he’d done it so many times before. As soon as the silence swept over the crowd, his heart seemed to calm, everything fading to nothingness, an empty void. All it seemed to be was he, Tom and the pool, not the millions of eyes watching them around the world. Satisfied with his round 1 score, he looked for their location on the leaderboard, spying joint 3rd with the Ukrainians and Russians, China with a marginal lead. Second round went the same again, forward 1 ½ pike, joint second with the Russians and Ukranians, China just ahead. But this was the easy part, before the difficulty ramped up, and the mistakes were made. ‘ _ Before our mistakes are made’ _ was a thought left unsaid, but George knew the possibility was there, and that he shouldn’t be taking the momentary second place for granted.

He tried to play the motions in his mind of their next dive, an inward 3 ½ tuck, but a loud gasp from the audience snapped him out of his preparation. Looking over to the scoreboard, he caught the end of a replay, which saw the hotly tipped Chinese pair have a disaster dive, slaughtering any chances of them even claiming a medal, let alone gold, in the highly competitive field. He tried to not let the thought consume his mind, that the gold was now at play, but as much as he wanted to ignore it, it was ever present, and nobody could ignore the plot twist that was. 

Inward was a dive group that George had particular anxiety over, scared he’d hit his head when rotating in towards the board. It wasn’t something he was the greatest at either, however he could still do it well enough to keep his list consistent enough. Tom knew how to execute the dive better, so as long as they stayed in sync they were guaranteed good marks anyway, more emphasis on the synchro than execution. As soon as George hit the water, he knew he’d overshot the dive, he felt his heels hitting the water’s surface, a telltale sign of a mistake. Thankfully, Tom was near perfect, but it was no consolation, he still felt like he’d let the team down, and lost Tom his chance at Olympic gold.

Round 4 wasn’t any better than round 3, falling down to 4th overall, with the Canadians, Australians and Russians ahead of them, teams that theoretically, they should have been beating. It wasn’t as if he and Tom were diving badly, per se, it was that whatever they did, everyone else seemed to find something better, limiting them to a position outside the medals. George had almost lost hope, resigning himself to the dreaded 4th position, the first losers. No medal, no nothing, not good enough to make Olympic history.

Round 5 was where the tide started to turn, their hardest dive paying dividends despite the execution not quite being perfect. Their first 90+ score, and back in second place, only 7 points off the Russians in first. But it didn’t mean much, with everyone so close, and ultimately, it would be down to the execution.

He didn’t pay anyone’s dives attention, blocking out the crowd as they reacted to the rise and fall of the order. As he made his way up the tower, he focused on one thing and one thing only, doing the job like it was a normal training run. He knew exactly where to kick, what angle to hold on take off, it was all ingrained in his memory, and he needed the dive of his life. The judges whistle sounded and he and Tom walked towards the end of the platform, George blocking everything out. Tom’s countdown from 3 sounded loud in his ears, and when he said go, he swung his arms, launching himself into the somersaults. He counted 1, 2, 3, wrapping his legs close to his chest in the process, letting himself freefall with grace. Spotting the ceiling, he kicked, feeling the weight on his wrists soon afterwards, the heavy feeling of impact taking over. 

He didn’t know what he’d done, whether it was good enough, but the loud cheers from the audience seemed to signify something good. Nervously, he moved over towards Tom, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as their wait began. This was it, Olympic gold or bust, a moment that would make both of their careers if positive, break them if negative. 

Before he could process the scoreboard’s update, he found himself toppling backwards towards the pool, hitting the water with definite splash soon afterwards, Tom’s arms slung around his neck still. It was only after he came up for air that he allowed himself the first look towards the scoreboard, and the sight that greeted him sure was pretty.

_ Olympic champions - T. Daley/G. Russell - Men’s 10m Synchronised Platform _

Everything was a daze from then onwards, the amount of people all desperate to get his photograph, grab an interview, all he wanted was to sleep for the next week. Of course, he still had to do the job with the individual event, but it didn’t mean he couldn't bask in the glory for a little while: he was Olympic champion on the first attempt. 

It only sunk in once they walked out to face the crowd once again, that they were Olympic champions. He wasn’t just George Russell anymore, he was George Russell the Olympic champion, something that nobody would ever take away from him. All the emotion he’d hidden before was now ever present, a few tears let loose as the medal was slung over his neck, the golden metal shining brightly under the lights of the arena. He looked over to where Tom’s gaze was fixed, seeing Dustin & Robbie, the 2 of them also overcome with pride. His own parents were also in the family area, and he gave his parents a huge thumbs up from the podium, not quite sure whether to believe the events of the day or not. It only fully cemented in his mind when God Save The Queen started playing, George proudly singing every word. This was a moment where he was proud of his country, proud to give them glory on the world’s biggest sporting stage. He was also proud to share the moment with Lance, one of his closest diving friends, the 2 of them having broken on to the scene at the same time, so for him to take gold alongside his friend taking silver, it was everything George could have dreamed of and more.

For the rest of the night, he wore the widest grin in the Olympic village, medal shown off at every opportunity. He’d also discovered Lando had taken bronze in the breaststroke, so the party in Team GB House was for the aquatics squad, everyone toasting in their honour as the alcohol and party tunes continued well into the early hours. It was quite possibly the best night of George’s night, Olympic gold followed by a 50 strong party celebrating both he and his childhood friend writing their names into Olympic history, it was nice to finally be taken as a talent not a wasted potential, like so many had taken him for beforehand. 

The tunes continued through the night, past the acceptable hours of being awake on most days, celebratory shots being brought into the mix.  It was certainly a night to remember for George, letting loose for once. And that night, he went to bed not only with a newly acquired Olympic gold medal, but with one new instagram follower: Nicholas Latifi.


	2. 2

“Lando, what the hell happened last night?” George asked his friend as soon as he was fully awake, the young Brit shaking him awake after finding him underneath a table in the front room. It had been a bit of a messy night as far as he could remember, his last coherent memory being the congratulatory rum shots with Lando, some boy band song playing over the borrowed speakers. But that was about 1am, and he was pretty sure there was more to the night than what he could remember, things he hoped Lando was more aware of.

“Well, we got very drunk. The footage is all over instagram, just check any of the diving and swimming teams’ pages. Oh and you fell asleep cuddling the table leg, but I think you figured that out already.” Lando just replied, seemingly not caring about the fact their antics had probably gone viral. George cringed slightly at the mental image, he’d seen footage before of himself when drunk, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. Flailing limbs, off pitch yelling to songs, and an alcohol stained shirt was what came from previous occasions, and he knew this one wouldn’t be any better.

“Did I do anything embarrassing?” George asked cautiously, trying to remember anything from the night. A few blurry memories came to light, but nothing concrete, only remembering the fact he’d become an Olympic champion.

“Well I’m not sure I’d call it embarrassing, but you tried to kiss me.” Lando whispered into the air between them, holding George’s gaze. His eyes briefly widened at the realisation, and Lando noted his body shying away slightly. 

“Oh. I’m sorry I did.” George spoke back, voice quieter than usual. His gaze fell to the floor, not daring to look back at Lando again, ashamed of what he’d done.

“It’s fine. But to be clear, I don’t like you like that.” Lando replied, hoping that George would be able to move on with the situation, despite knowing that he’d drunkenly kissed his best friend.

“I don’t either, Lando. You’re my best friend and I don’t want to change that.” was the simple reply, George not quite sure what else he should have said.

“But there is someone you want to kiss, right?” Lando asked next, raising an eyebrow at the flustered Brit in front of him, taken aback by the question asked.

“Maybe?” George eventually stuttered back, cheeks turning a light pink as his mind drifted off to the guy in question.

“C’mon, Alex told me about the guy at the swimming. It was the Canadian guy, right?” Lando teased, spying the tint in George’s cheeks turning a darker hue as he pushed more buttons, curious about the man who stole George’s heart.

“I don’t even know his name, Lando.” he sighed in reply, shoulders dropping as he realised he’d probably never see the man again. A hand on his shoulder pulled his focus back to the Brit in front of him, who’s optimistic mood seemed to lift his mood despite the pounding headache from the hangover. 

“But I do.” he told the brunette, sparking George’s signature smile to blossom over his features once again, no longer wearing the disappointed smile of before. Hope was no longer lost, maybe things would go his way in the end.

“Have you ever heard the name Nicholas Latifi?” Lando questioned him, trying to help George out with his knowledge of the situation. The blank face greeting him in return told him all he needed to know.

“Don’t think I have.” George replied, the name not seeming familiar. Maybe it was because he wasn’t familiar with any Canadians apart from Lance, but he didn’t remember anyone mentioning the man’s name before, not even Lance, his friend for years on the diving circuit. 

“That’s him. Canadian showjumper, son of a billionaire, people only say he’s on the national team because of his money but whether that's true is another thing.” Lando continued telling him the details he knew of the man, finding them out through his social media accounts, which were pretty easy to find given he was actually a distant friend of one of his own friends.

“You legend! What would I do without you Lando?” George cheered out, delighted to finally put a name to the face he couldn’t stop thinking about.

“I don’t know. Stay single for the rest of your life?” Lando teased him, instantly bracing for George’s comeback. He didn’t have to wait long before his high pitched laughter rang around the room.

“Oh come on!” George just whined, gently nudging his friend who soon joined in the laughter. It was moments like this where he felt truly at ease, just him and his friends just joking and laughing around, no worrying about what the world around them held. And he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

\---

A few days had passed since Nicholas decided to follow George on instagram, hoping something would come of the situation, but nothing did. He’d gone about his business as normal, hanging around the Olympic village with Lance and Esteban in his free time, but still, no communications ever happen, the Brit seemingly forgetting about the interaction, or choosing to ignore him. He knew he could easily reach out to the Brit, but in all honesty, he didn’t really know what to say to George, so instead kept quiet, opting to not say anything instead. And it was cowardly to just shy away like this, but ultimately he knew he’d say the wrong things if he dared speak, so kept it at silence, hoping George would be the one to reach out first.

Training was well underway for the equestrian events, and he was thankful that he had his first session back for the showjumping, his good friends already back in action in the dressage. He was glad to have something clearing his mind at last, the wait for competition almost driving him crazy. He’d already been in Paris for a week, just waiting for the day until he could get back riding, and now it was finally here, he couldn’t wait to get back on Sophia Marilena once again. He hadn’t seen the thoroughbred in weeks, kept in the capable hands of his coach Sebastian through her journey from Canada over to France. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Seb, he trusted him with his life, but he wanted to take care of her now, taking her out on the training course set out by the German.

He quickly changed into his training breeches and shirt before moving over to stable 6, where he knew the brown haired thoroughbred was waiting for him. Unlocking the door, he greeted her with a quick pat on the body, before preparing her saddle, making sure everything was ready for him before he got out on the training course. With a final check over, he led her out the stable, locking the door behind him, making the short walk over to the arena, where his coach awaited him. 

“Nicky, nice to see you again!” Sebastian greeted him, taking him in for a quick hug before turning his attention to the bay horse beside the Canadian, gently stroking down her neck.

“Hey Seb. First time these games, can’t believe it’s been this long!” he responded, smiling back at his coach. He’d struck gold getting Seb on his coaching team, the German being a multiple Olympic champion and world champion, currently holding the record for youngest showjumping world champion. Nicky knew he could break the record if he took the Olympic title in just over 2 weeks time, but realistically, he was already out the running, he didn’t have the positive momentum that his main competitors did, and that was crucial to show jumping.

“Remember the course plan I sent you the other day. That’s what we’re going for here. No focus on time at the moment, rather just getting over the jumps, but I will be timing, for reference.” Seb told him, not wanting to waste time in the arena, instead wanting Nicky to be productive in the first session back. In response, the Canadian just nodded, before clambering onto his horse, settling on the saddle and adjusting his footing in the stirrups. Grabbing the reins, he took a slow canter around the course, judging the distance for each jump from afar, figuring out when he’d need to jump to successfully clear each fence. The final jump definitely looked the hardest one to him, triple bars being his achilles heel in the past, and he knew Sebastian had done it on purpose, giving him a course full of all his worst combinations. 

After the observation, he felt confident enough to attempt the course, accelerating into a fast canter, squeezing with his calves to help Soph gain speed. He took each jump with confidence, enjoying the feeling of flying over each fence, the adrenaline rush spurring him on more and more. He should have known it wouldn’t go perfectly for him, it never did in the end, something always went wrong, whether it was his fault or not. 

All it took was a slight misjudgement heading towards the triple bars, the dreaded final option, deciding to take off just a fraction too early. He could feel in the air, he didn’t have the height to clear the final bars, and he would clatter them pretty badly. And sure enough, down they fell, the impact with the ground pretty nasty for Soph. But the sheer jolt from his horse sent him flying off her back with violent force, swinging to his left with no time to save himself. His right ankle stuck in the stirrup as he started to fall, causing an excruciating pain to rip through the whole of his right leg, letting out a pained cry as a result. Sebastian ran over, trying to stop Sophia Marilena from running wild, but it was too late for Nicholas anyway, as he hit the ground with an almighty thud, his left side making the heaviest impact with the sand floor.

The adrenaline wearing off only made the pain intensify, Nicholas having to fight back tears almost instantaneously as his body throbbed. He’d never had an incident this big, and it definitely felt like some ribs were bruised or broken this time, and maybe his ankle had fared the same. So many things were running through his mind, from the state of his horse to his Olympic dreams being dashed to the state of his injuries, but all he could do was lie motionless on the sand, trying not to scream out in excruciating pain. Sebastian came running over, trying to offer a hand up, but he could barely move, letting out a pained scream as he sat up, his left ribs throbbing. He took the German’s hand, trying to move to his feet, but his right ankle couldn’t take the pressure, and he collapsed to the ground once again. After a couple more attempts, and more pained cries, Nicholas resigned himself to the fact that his Olympic dreams were over, there was no chance he’d be able to compete if he couldn’t even walk without assistance. 

“I’ll call you an ambulance, stay right here. Soph’s already safe in the stable, don’t worry.” Sebastian reassured the Canadian, trying to calm his cries, but it didn’t do much, the pain overwhelming for Nicholas. He laid back down in the sand, trying to drown out the throbbing sensation taking over his body.

  
“Is this me out of the games?” he whimpered, voice barely audible, but Sebastian heard him loud and clear.

“So long as you can get on that horse, even if I have to lift you, you’re competing, alright. It’s not over until it’s really over, you’ve still got 10 days until round one.” he replied, squeezing the Canadian’s wrist as a sign of positivity, belief, he was desperately hoping this wasn’t a broken ankle, and that Nicky could still compete for a good position, even if it wasn’t for a medal.

“I hope so. This bloody hurts Seb.” He yelled out through gritted teeth, finding it harder to stay awake with all the pain pulsing through his body, becoming more unbearable by the second.

“I know Nicky, I know. It won’t be long until the medics are here.” Seb cooed, making sure he kept conscious until being taken to the hospital, he needed the Canadian to be alert through this.

“They’d better give me anaesthetic, I don’t know how much more I can take.” he stated clearly, and it was visible in his eyes that he was struggling, tears streaming down his face due to the sheer agony he was in.

“I’ll ask for it, don’t worry.” Seb reassured him, trying to keep him calm for the remainder of the time that it took for the medical experts to arrive. As promised, they gave Nicholas anaesthetic soon after they arrived, relieving him of the pain he was in. Seb silently thanked the medics as they injected the fluid, he didn’t want Nicky to suffer in pain like this, the least he could do was obey his wishes and try to free him of the temporary pain. The last thing Nicky could remember was the feeling of disappointment, letting everyone down, before the pain numbed and his vision went black, praying that he’d be alright and that the injury wasn’t what he suspected it to be.

\---

“Evening sleepyhead!” Esteban greeted him, his head pounding as he tried to adjust to the lights in the room, the bright white almost blinding him in the process.

“Wha- where?” he asked, voice deep from sleep and from the anaesthetic, making him quite woozy.

“You’re in hospital. Had a pretty nasty accident in training, sprained your ankle quite badly and bruised some ribs.” Lance told him sternly, handing him the written assessment a doctor had done for him earlier in the day, detailing the full damage from the fall.

“Oh. And Soph?” He asked, hoping that the bay horse was still okay, and that she’d been taken care of. He couldn’t have the princess getting hurt, he needed her at her peak to stand a chance of doing well, and he was determined to compete.  
  
“Yeah, she’s good. Seb’s looking after her still.” Lance clarified, smiling softly back to his fellow countryman lying in the hospital bed. It pained him to see his friend looking like that, the bandages on his ankle a stark reminder of things that had happened, and the dreams that might not come true as a result.  
  
“M’glad. Need the medal. Need George.” Nicky drowsily replied, voice laced with the aftereffects of the anaesthesia. Lance and Esteban were taken aback by the mention of their friend but chose to let it slide, they knew he wouldn’t normally be saying this kind of thing when fully aware. He never usually talked about relationships in front of them, even asking about their own, and they knew it wouldn’t be any different under normal circumstances here.  
  
“We could ask him if he wants to visit?” Esteban suggested, trying to keep a smirk off his face. Fortunately, Nicky wasn’t looking over towards the pair of them, instead more focused on the Parisian skyline visible from the window. Lance gently squeezed the Frenchman’s hand, leaning over to place a quick kiss on his cheek. A soft blush blossomed over Esteban’s cheeks, making Lance brightly, still amazed at the effect he had on his lover.

“Tell George I’d rather have his babies.” Nicky muttered back, low and almost inaudible, and for a second nobody in the room believed those words had just been said. Lance slowly turned to face Esteban, who was also turning to face him, with an expression of _‘did he just say that.’_ on his face. A deafening silence fell over the room momentarily, nobody quite sure of what to say.

“You’re a guy, Nicky!” Lance eventually exclaimed, trying to hold back a laugh in the process. Unfortunately, he failed, and the shrill laugh made its way through the room, some tears forming in the Canadian’s eyes through laughing too hard.

“And what?” he just responded with a small shrug, probably realising and regretting exactly what he said. A small blush coated his cheeks, visible to both Lance and Esteban, and he tried to avoid their glances, but he knew he’d been caught out already.

“But we could still ask if he wants to visit. He’s probably busy though, it’s his friend Alex’s butterfly final tonight and he wouldn’t want to miss that.” Esteban added, trying to fuel some more positivity into the injured Canadian. He knew what was coming out of Nicholas’ mouth wouldn’t be said under normal circumstances, but he was taking what he could get, and if it meant a happier Nicky further down the line, he’d absolutely play a bit cheekier than normal.

“Wish I was there.” Nicholas just sighed in response, wondering how things were going on over at the aquatics centre, whether George was happy or not, whether Alex was succeeding or not.

\---

George had been at the aquatic complex all day, so hadn’t really had time to check his phone for any news regarding the events. Lando had kept him company when the pair weren’t training, watching some of the other events nearby to the complex. He could tell something was off with Lando though, from the way he was behaving, it was as if he was withholding some information from George, and he was not happy if that was the case. The alternative was that something had just gotten to him, in preparation for his second event, but realistically, he knew that wouldn’t be the case, it was Lando’s specialist event, nothing could put him off his stride for something he was so passionate about.

George ignored him for the most part, knowing it was probably better to leave Lando to things, he’d seen what happened when someone startled the little Brit before, and he didn’t want any part in that. It was just before the doors opened to the aquatics venue for the evening sessions, Alex going for butterfly gold, and he knew he couldn’t miss it, even if Lando was prepared to. He’d _promised_ Alex he’d be there for every event he physically could, and he wasn’t willing to give that up now. 

The atmosphere in the building once he was allowed back in felt slightly wrong, but he couldn’t place what it was. Nothing should have been out of place, and seemingly, everything was perfect for him, not knowing what could possibly be making him feel that things weren’t quite right. He played it off as nerves for Alex, being in the final event of the night, having to wait almost 2 more hours before the swimmers took to the pool. Everything just felt so _wrong_ to him that evening, he’d rather have been elsewhere, preferably back in his hotel room, but he made his promise to Alex, one he was intent to keep.

Race after race passed, and soon enough it was time for Alex to step up for the final, and he and Lando raised the Union Jack high, cheering him on during his entrance. He tried to pretend everything was okay, even with Lando smiling away as Alex took his place on the starting blocks, and he hoped that success would be the answer to the shifted atmosphere, that a medal would change things for him and settle his mind.

The starting beep rang out around the arena, and the yells of the audience soon overpowered everything, George and Lando joining the masses in cheering for their friend. The flag’s movements got more and more intense as the time passed, going so far as jumping up and down whilst shaking it, anything to cheer their compatriot on. Halfway, he was leading, but not by much, and George knew that Alex tended to struggle within the second 50m, and that the others would usually catch and pass him in this time. His voice grew louder as Alex made his way through the second length, seeing him still ahead coming into the last little part, but it was only marginal. He knew it could still be lost from here. But Alex was wiser than that, he kept the momentum, kicking towards the end to touch the wall first, scoring a gold medal in the process. 

“He did it, he bloody did it!” George screamed out at the top of his lungs, throwing the flag high in the air in the process. All three of them were now Olympic medalists, they’d achieved their dreams now, nothing more mattered. Well, except for maybe sorting out his own love life, but that was doomed anyway, it was a one sided attraction to a show jumper who’d likely see him as nothing more than a friend.

“Alabonooooo!” Lando simply yelled into the air, the nickname he’d acquired as a child sticking through to his most career defining moment. It was typical really, George thought, how the 3 of them all made it together: Hobbit, Giorgio and Alabono. 

“Careful, Hobbit, you might lose your voice.” George teased back, knowing Lando once before had lost his voice midway through a world championship due to cheering too much for his friends. It wasn’t his finest moment, and his friends still wouldn’t let him live it down years later.

“Oh come on, you’re really going to bring back what happened in Rotterdam?” Lando laughed back, mortified that George would bring it back, but knowing full well it was always something the Brit liked to use against him. With a slight smirk on his face, George turned to face Lando with an eyebrow raised, and the smaller Brit knew with this, it was better to not push further, or more of his embarrassing moments would be brought up in the moment, something he desperately wanted to avoid.

“Anyways, now this is done, shouldn’t you be at the hospital?” Lando questioned, seemingly unsure as to why George would be spending his time with him, given the situation at hand with Nicholas.

“Why would I be there?” George questioned, unsure of what Lando could mean. He didn’t know anyone in the hospital and he wasn’t hurt, he genuinely had no idea why Lando was suggesting he should be there.

“Are you serious? You don’t know?!” He all but shouted back towards George, who only looked back with a clueless expression, and he felt guilty for raising his voice at the taller Brit. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t let the issue slide though, he knew it was better if George knew too.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about?” George replied, trying to desperately think of what could get Lando so worried. He figured it was why the atmosphere felt so off, Lando was holding this information back from him, and it had to be something big, Lando wasn’t one to just lie to his face.  
  
“Nicky’s there and lets just say, it wasn’t good. Last thing I know he was still anaesthetised but he could’ve come around by now.” Lando cautiously spoke, trying to keep as calm as possible when telling George. He didn’t need George to say it out loud to realise just how deep his feelings ran, it was visible in the way his eyes lit up every time his name was mentioned, subtle little signs most people would pass over. But not Lando, he didn’t miss these, he knew George had fallen for Nicky. And the way George’s eyes dimmed in the split second it took to reveal the news, Lando never wanted to see a sight like it again, the happiness draining instantly.

“Oh…” George faintly stuttered out, unsure of what more to say. He’d been so preoccupied with training he hadn’t bothered to check social media, and he’d had to be told by Lando instead that Nicholas was hospitalised and possibly not even conscious. It took everything in him to not break down then and there, trying to hold back the onslaught of tears that were threatening to fall. It was stupid, getting hung up over a guy he barely knew, but George couldn’t help being worried.  
  
“Yeah, I thought you knew.” Lando just comforted him, getting out of his seats with George and exiting the venue. He knew Alex would be at Team GB house later, he’d see the gold medal then, George was more worth his attention right now. Silently making their exits, he stayed with George until they reached the shared accommodation, the walk mostly spent in silence, the sound of traffic and crowd cheers as white noise in the background.

Lando didn’t spend too much longer with George back at the room, Alex texting him after the podium telling him the party was starting. He offered George the chance to tag along but he declined, instead rathering his own company for the night, away from everyone else. At one point he debated trying to join Lando and Alex, already seeing the footage from their instagram stories, but he wasn’t in the right mood for it. He could see them having fun, alcohol being consumed in large quantities, and normally it would be something he’d be willing to do. But not tonight, when his mind kept drifting to other things, specifically another person.

The instagram notification had been haunting him since he woke up to it about a week ago, not really sure what to do. Following back was logical, and of course George had done that much, but messaging? He didn’t even know what to say to the guy without making a total fool out of himself. It was exactly why he hadn’t said anything, and didn’t plan to, but now the guy was in hospital with his Olympic dreams potentially dashed, and George felt compelled to say something to the guy.

**Messages with** NicholasLatifi  
  
**REPLY:** Hey, hope you’re doing okay. It’s George, the one you sat next to at swimming. I just wanted to reach out and say hi really. That’s all.

Sending the message off, he hoped that he’d get a reply, that he hadn’t misread the situation at all. He thought there was a connection but maybe he was mistaken. It wouldn’t be the first time things like this had happened, misreading feelings from someone and letting himself fall too hard only to be rejected. He really hoped Nicholas was different, and that the connection was genuine. 

To his surprise, Nicky’s reply was almost instant, sending a smile straight to George’s features. It was unexpected, and took him off guard, he wasn’t used to people replying this quickly. 

**Messages with** NicholasLatifi  
  
**REPLY:** Hey, hope you’re doing okay. It’s George, the one you sat next to at swimming. I just wanted to reach out and say hi really. That’s all.  
**INCOMING:** Hey George, I’m not doing too bad. Of course, my ribs and ankle hurt but they’ll heal in time for the competition. I heard one of your friends won gold, I assume you were there for that?

George’s heart fluttered slightly at the mention of Alex’s gold, slightly amazed at the fact that he’d even remembered that he was competing that night, let alone won gold. However, it was likely that he had people visiting who watched it with him, the event was one of the hotly tipped ones after all, and there was a Canadian in the running too, making it likely he caught the events in some form. He replied, proud of Alex, and kept up conversation for a bit about the swimming, trying to not bore him whilst hyping his friend. Fortunately, from the messages Nicholas was sending back, there was great harmony, and the conversation flowed better than he expected, quickly shifting away from the competition at hand.

**Messages with** NicholasLatifi  
  
**REPLY:** Yes that's right, Alex got the gold in butterfly. It was kinda fun, but it wasn’t the same without you there you know.  
  
**INCOMING:** You’re probably just saying that to make me happy.

**REPLY:** And so what if I wanted to make you happy ;)  
  
**REPLY:** But seriously, it was quite a tiring night, seeing as I had training during the day too.  
  
**INCOMING:** At least you didn’t manage to injure yourself whilst training! I’m gonna need crutches for a bit! And who says you don’t make me happy?

He knew it was risky trying to make any move at this stage, but he decided to take the risk anyway. He wasn’t afraid of taking the risk anymore, what was the worst thing that Nicky could say anyway? 

**Messages with** NicholasLatifi  
  
**REPLY:** We need to meet soon, I swear. Text me to agree a place and time once you’re out of hospital, and we’ll make something work. I’ll send my number later.  
  


He really hoped that he’d get a reply from the Canadian, even if it only led to a friendship, he’d take anything at this point. But really, he was hoping Nicky would see it as a date and say yes, agreeing to meet him the next day. He waited five minutes, ten minutes, hoping for some form of reply, but the more time passed, the less hope he had. A sudden notification brought him out of his trance, and the contents of the message made his heart beat just that little bit faster. 

**Messages with** NicholasLatifi  
  
**INCOMING:** Sure thing, I can’t wait. But be warned, I won’t be able to walk far. Crutches.

**REPLY:** Got it. See you tomorrow Nicky :)  


It had somehow worked for him, he’d got a potential date the next day, all he had to do was arrange the final details with Nicky, and then actually go meet the Canadian. Like what was said in the message, he truly couldn’t wait, hoping that the day would go well for him. 


	3. 3

“Oh my god Lance, what do I even wear!?” Nicky called out to his roommate in a panicked state, trying to figure out what would be good enough to impress the British diver. He’d been excited ever since they agreed the location and time, choosing the vintage coffee shop in the Olympic village, but now it was almost time, he started overthinking everything.

George was perfect in every way, from his gentle laugh to his stunning eyes, and all he wanted to do was call the Brit his, kiss his sweetly and hold him close. But who was he compared to that? A man who got injured during training sessions, always messing up under pressure, he couldn’t compare even with all the money in the world from his father. And here George was, asking him to meet, getting a bit flirty, the world just didn’t normally work like that.

“Just go for something simple, your outfit won’t be the difference between getting a boyfriend or not.” Lance reassured him, honestly not caring too much about which outfit Nicky chose, he knew George wouldn’t really be bothered about it.   
  
“Seriously though Lance, what would be like the most?” Nicholas questioned in return, still concerned about what to wear. Lance was the more fashion conscious of the pair, so he trusted the man with the decision about his outfit, hoping Lance would make him look at least semi decent.

“Plain t shirt and leather jacket. Can’t go too wrong with that.” Lance shrugged in response, watching as Nicky put the items on, immediately liking the way everything worked together on him. He felt a sense of pride for his friend, he’d been good friends with Nicky for a while now, to see him so happy was something satisfying, knowing how the criticism weighed him down so much, the taunting due to his rich rather almost unbearable at times. 

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Nicky worriedly asked, running a hand through his hair, slightly longer curls falling loosely over his forehead. He cursed slightly at this, remembering he needed to get it cut, forgetting due to the stress of competition and the impromptu hospital trip. Still, the nerves remained, even as he picked up his bag and crutches, ready to leave their shared apartment, heading to the cozy coffee shop that George had chosen.   
  
“Nonsense Nicky, you’re going to meet him and you  _ will _ have a good time, okay. He’s a good match for you, okay, just trust me.” Lance reassured him, holding the door open for the showjumper as he moved forward on the crutches out the door, headed towards their meeting spot. 

It took him longer than it should have done to get to the small coffee shop that George had chosen as the meeting point, and he kept anxiously checking his wrist on the small walk, hoping he wasn’t keeping George waiting inside. Walking into the shop, he could see exactly why George chose the venue, falling in love instantly with the decor. It was a modern space, light and airy, with wooden furniture and a strong smell of coffee filtering through the store, a smell which Nicky had come to adore. Patiently, he took a seat by the window, placing his crutches down by the side of the chair, his ankle still heavily bandaged after the accident. It didn’t hurt as much but it still caused him reasonable discomfort, a small throbbing pain still present at times, and he didn’t want to stand around waiting when he could be taking a seat.

All prior worries faded away the moment George stepped into the little store, immediately spotting the Canadian in the corner, features softening at the sight of him. Nicky felt his heart beating slightly faster at the sight but put it down to nerves, even though he knew _ it wasn’t. _ He knew perfectly well he’d fallen head over heels for the diver, but saying it to him was another matter, one he wasn’t quite brave enough to do, so instead he took to admiring from afar, gazing over at the Brit walking towards him, noting the way his blue eyes shone like the brightest stars in the sky.

The Brit shyly waved at him, a gentle smile resting on his lips as he approached. Time seemed to slow at the moment he arrived at the table, George captivating all his attention as he took a seat at the table, Nicholas captivated by the Brit in the moment, unsure of what he did to be in George’s presence. He couldn’t look away even if he tried, the Brit simply too stunning, and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, a crimson red probably visible to George. He politely smiled in return, unsure of what really to say, already secure in the comfortable silence that had formed between them, enjoying the peace and solace it brought. 

“Hey Nicky.” George spoke after a few seconds, capturing the Canadian’s attention, deep brown eyes snapping upwards to face the Brit’s lighter blues.   
  
“Yeah George?” He asked in reply, gazing out the window so not to meet George’s gaze for long. It was probably written all over his face through his heavy blush, but he hoped George wouldn’t notice his feelings, not now at least. Maybe once the games were over, he’d shoot his shot, but until that moment, his only goal was getting Olympic gold, not getting a boyfriend.   
  
“What drink do you want, seeing as I’m paying.” George spoke up again, reaching towards his wallet, waiting on Nicky’s drink of choice to buy, so he could treat the Canadian.

“Latte with cinnamon sprinkles is what I usually get. I’m paying for the next one though.” Nicky told him, eliciting a small gasp from George at the answer, probably not expecting him to have such a sweet tooth. With a gentle smile, George began to rise from his seat, reaching down to pick up his Team GB bag.   
  
“That’s if there’s a next one.” He gently replied at Nicholas with a teasing smile, causing the Canadian to lightly giggle.   
  
“You’re not getting out of this one too easily, Russell.” Nicholas replied, watching as the Brit started to move towards the counter to order.   
  
“I wouldn’t dare, Latifi.” George just said back as he moved further towards the counter, leaving Nicky alone at the table, waiting for his coffee of choice. 

It didn’t take long for George to return with the 2 drinks, George’s cappuccino alongside his own cinnamon latte on the tray placed between the 2 of them. Reaching out to grab his own mug, George also did the same, hands brushing slightly in the middle. Nicholas didn’t usually believe in love at first sight, but here, now, he was fairly convinced George was  _ the one _ , his whole body feeling sparks just at the mere contact of hands with the Brit, more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before.

He hoped the blush on his cheeks wasn’t prevalent for the rest of the afternoon, the conversation flowing easily as the coffees were downed and refilled, drunk to the soundtrack of anecdotes from sports and a hint of flirting back and forth. The sky turned from a bright blue to hints of pink and purple, time passing them by caught up in the moment. Eventually though, the conversations had to come to an end as the coffees turned cold and the skies turned darker, and Nicholas felt a sadness draw over him at the realisation that his time with George was over. He’d felt a natural connection with the Brit over the hours, his heart fluttering at the sight of him, and the thought of leaving disappointed him slightly, even if he knew he was only a message away. Before he could sulk any longer, George spoke up, breaking the silence they’d fallen into.

“Can I walk back with you?” he asked, voice almost inaudible over the soft music playing in the background of the shop. Still, Nicholas heard him clear as day, the words taking him slightly by surprise.   
  
“Sure, I mean my roommate Lance is meant to be away at training anyway, he won’t be back for another hour.” Nicky replied before he could give it proper thought, the prospect of time with George far too tempting for his own good.    
  
“Oh brilliant, I’m not too far away from your accommodation anyway.” George shrugged as a reply, pulling down the sleeves of his hoodie slightly as Nicky adjusted his leather jacket, picking up his crutches soon afterwards, needing them as assistance for the short walk.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they made the short walk through the Olympic village, everything else fading away into the background as they kept stealing the occasional glance of the other when they weren’t looking. It felt so right for Nicky, so perfect, and he hoped one day that he’d be able to have this for real, George as his partner for life. But as much as he dreamt of the British brunette being his, he tried to keep it realistic, George probably would prefer another diver anyway, not an equestrian failure like he was. 

Entering the apartment building, Nicholas let out a frustrated sigh at the sign pinned to the doors of the lift.  _ Out of order, please use the stairs. _ Of course it was just his luck for this to happen on the day he had crutches, where climbing stairs to the 21st floor would take at least half an hour. His facial expression dropped visibly and George noticed the sudden change.

“Need any help getting up there?” The Brit asked, turning to Nicky with an almost pitiful expression, feeling sorry for the Canadian.

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” he tried to reply casually, but George knew better, he could see the discomfort written all over Nicholas’ face.   
  
“That’s bullshit, Nicky.” George sternly told him, not believing at all in the Canadian’s excuse that he’d be fine. Taking the Canadian’s crutches off him, he proceeded to lift Nicky off the ground, his arms slinging around George’s neck to help the Brit. 

Nicky was not going to complain about being held in George’s arms as he scaled flight after flight of stairs, it gave him a closer view of George’s features after all. He saw the long lashes up close, framing his piercing blue eyes, which had drops of brown at the centre, little gold specs also caught up in the myriad of colours. His lips were also very full, moisturised well due to the slight shine on them. His mind drifted to what it would be like to kiss George’s lips, how passionate of a lover George was, and what other things he could use that mouth for, and he had to cut himself off before going too far, a hard on in the arms of his crush was something he did not want to be dealing with.

Eventually, after a bit of a struggle from George, they both reached floor 21, Nicky being handed his crutches back by George before moving over to the door, unlocking it to the shared room. Nicky silently cursed at Lance for not keeping his side of the room tidy, the bed half made with clothes still slung over the bed. Fortunately, it wasn’t too bad, and George still hung around, taking a seat on the side of Nicky’s bed, looking out the window overlooking the city, a sunset coated Eiffel tower and Seine visible to the east.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Nicky commented, moving to sit beside George on the bed, following the Brit’s gaze out to the streets of the city, and the golden light that illuminated the city.   
  
“It really is, yeah.” George replied, taking comfort in the peace of the situation. It was here where he was most content, beside Nicky, watching over the city together, and it was a moment he hoped would last.   
  
“But it’s not as beautiful as you.” The Canadian spoke soon afterwards, George letting out a surprised squeak at the sudden confession. He’d hoped all afternoon he was reading the signs right and that Nicky was indeed  _ interested _ , but to hear it confirmed was another thing, which his heart wasn’t quite ready for at that moment.

“But have you looked at yourself? I’m nothing compared to you.” He managed to eventually reply, feeling his cheeks heating up. He’d rarely been complimented growing up, so to hear things like that from a man so beautiful, with an accent  _ to die for _ , George didn’t think it could be any better.   
  
“You’re perfect, George, and I don’t know why you can’t see that.” He just sighed in reply, leaning slightly closer to the Brit, arms almost touching in the small space between them. If he was any braver, George would’ve reached across and taken Nicholas’ hand, but he couldn’t gain the nerve to do so, the overwhelming feeling of not being good enough still ever present in his mind.

“Thank you, Nicky.” he softly replied, leaning into the Canadian’s space on instinct. It was then that he started to gain a little more nerve, turning to face Nicky, knees touching as he looked towards the brunette. Hesitantly, he started to lean towards him more, hand moving to rest on the show jumper’s shoulder, the other resting gently at the nape of his neck, playing gently with the curls that had started to grow. The Canadian soon caught the hint and leaned closer on instinct, eyes starting to close as he closed the distance to George. 

A loud yell of “Nicky” pulled their attention towards the doorway, heads whipping around to see who was making all the noise, hands pulling away from each other, snapping them out the moment. A moment later, a rather guilty looking Lance walked into the room, smirking slightly as he realised exactly what he’d come to interrupt.

“I’ll leave you 2 to it, okay, I’m going to Esteban’s place.” He further told them, shaking his head slightly at the pair in front of him, both blushing furiously.   
  
“No it’s fine, I was going to leave anyway.” George tried to offer up an explanation in the hope that Lance would believe him, and for a moment he thought he’d been believed.   
  
“Alright then George, whatever you say.” Lance just replied, letting George grab his bag before turning towards the door. But before he could leave, Lance whispered to him “you were going to kiss him, don’t play dumb George.” as he walked past the Canadian out the room, a crimson blush soon adorning his cheeks. Seems he wasn’t as subtle as he’d hoped.

\---

George didn’t really mention the date to his friends for the next few days, still a bit crushed from Lance’s interruption. He knew they knew something didn’t exactly go right, but he didn’t quite have the nerve that  _ he almost kissed Nicholas Latifi _ , only to be interrupted at the last minute, it was easier to just pretend that there wasn’t the chemistry he’d hoped there would be, and it would probably hurt less in the long run.

Instead, he filled his days with training and Parisian tourist activities, visiting the Eiffel Tower with Alex, Lando, and some of the other Team GB athletes, enjoying the views over the sun lit city, relaxing with the knowledge it was still another week until he had to compete again. It was nice to escape the pressure of being an olympian, even if for the smallest time, just taking in the sights of a beautiful city surrounded by people he loved the most. The pressure was getting to him slightly, everyone was expecting another medal after the synchro gold, and he’d rather be dealing with the expectations when the time came to compete, evading the hopes and dreams of his country that he was carrying on his shoulders. 

There was also the matter of Nicholas to deal with. He’d agreed to watch the Canadian in action on all 4 days, but that was before what happened with Lance, before things got offset in a way that left both hesitant to even speak to the other. It didn’t mean George didn’t pine, his heart was still very much yearning for Nicky, but the chance had come and gone, all he could do now was watch from afar as he drifted away in the same manner he was initially pulled into his gravity.

One of Lando’s friends Max was competing in the showjumping alongside Nicky, which gave him the perfect excuse to be at the arena, accompanying his friend to watch the action. He’d not heard much about the Dutchman other than the fact he had a fierce rivalry with Charles Leclerc, another young jumper from Monaco, born into a life of luxury. They’d dominated the world scene for years, both tipped to become the gold medallist in Paris, their horses some of the best in the world for jumping, and he knew that it was going to be one of them on the top step come the end of the 7 day competition. He also knew Nicky was a real outside chance, but given his injuries, he’d be lucky to make the first cut, knowing how much of a setback injury could be, not just on the physical side of things. 

The first day didn’t end too badly for the pair, Lando mostly having to explain the basic rules to George in the stands, observing as all the riders tackled the course, few coming away without a penalty of some kind. Even Charles made a little mistake on a simple gate, taking him down the order slightly, but then again many of the front runners also fell short on things like time, Nicholas and Max taking a slight bit too much time on their runs. They all successfully made the cut though, which was all that Lando and George really cared for, and it meant they could rest easy that evening, watching Alex going for his second gold of the games. 

“Hey, Max’s just text me to go to the stables, c’mon George.” Lando suddenly announced, already grabbing George’s wrist, pulling him towards the athletes area, giving him no say in the matter. It was typical of Lando to be doing things like this, always trying to see his athlete friends, and George had come to know beforehand that once he had an idea, there was no stopping the swimmer. Reluctantly, his feet carried him towards the stables, finding him in front of Max soon afterwards, horse securely locked in the stables for the time being. 

“Lando my man, what’s life like now you’re an Olympic medallist!” Max cheered out as he approached the Brit, taking him in for a bone crushing hug, Lando letting out a high pitched squeak as the Dutchman’s arms closed around him.   
  
“You’ll find out in a few days Max. Anyways I’m here with George, one of the divers, I don’t know if you know him but well, now you do!” Lando just replied, a slight giggle let out at the end as he tried to settle the atmosphere, George clearly a bit on edge from the expression resting on his face. He tried to play it off as nothing, extending his hand forward for Max to shake like nothing was even wrong, but Lando knew him too well and could pinpoint the reason immediately.

“George, you’re still hung up over him.” Lando pointed out, causing Max to raise an eyebrow and George to let out a short sigh, slightly exasperated at his friend for mentioning it, let alone in front of someone else.

“Lando I told you it was nothing.” he just whined, trying to dismiss the issue instead of addressing it straight on like he should have done.    
  
“I’ve been in your position. It was like this with me and Charl-” Max started to say, but before he could finish his sentence, Lando interrupted him, shock evident in his voice.   
  
“Wait, you and Charles?!” He queried, not quite believing the Dutchman. For all he knew, Max and Charles hated each other, so to find out the opposite was a reality, it certainly was a bit of a shock to the pair.   
  
“Yep, me and Charles are together. Have been for about a year. I thought he’d never deserve someone as shit as me but here we are. You need to communicate, George, only then will things work.” Max continued, turning sympathetic at the ending, knowing full well just how brutal love could be when the lines started to blur between friends and lovers, not quite having a secure state.   
  
“George, you need to text him back, even if it’s just to let him know you were here today.” Lando almost pleaded, trying to convince the Brit that he wouldn’t be rejected, and that things could work with Nicky, even if the ending of the last meeting was messy. But George could already see the rejection, he could see the humiliation, and he wanted absolutely no part to play in it.

“No.” was all that he could reply before walking away, leaving a dumbfounded Lando and Max standing around in the paddock, clearly taken aback by George’s sudden and uncharacteristic exit. 

\---

As the sunset fell on Paris, only one of the Brits made their way over to the aquatics centre, George bailing out after the afternoon’s incident which hit a raw nerve, secluding himself in the immediate aftermath. Lando had played witness to this before, and knew to give George a few days to himself before he’d be back to normal, at least that was what he hoped - George was a bit unpredictable at times though. It didn’t give Lando the evening off though, even if he didn’t have George by his side anymore, for he still had the job of going to cheer on Alex, the Briton preparing to take on his favoured butterfly event for his second gold of the games.

The one hour countdown had just come through the team quarters, Alex relaxing in his team tracksuit as the senior staff passed on the memo, Lando waiting around impatiently with him. Lando wasn’t even meant to be in the changing rooms but had somehow slipped through the net, but nobody really minded the enthusiastic Brit’s presence, bringing a bit of light relief to the already tense atmosphere in the changing area, everyone readying themselves for the intense competition they were about to engage in.

“Lando, relax, I’m gonna be fine. There’s nothing to lose, I already have gold, it’s just playing for pride now.” Alex tried to calm the Brit down as he fussed with the hem of his tracksuit, gently playing off his friend’s enthusiastic comments about his almost inevitable gold.    
  
“I still want you to get the second gold though.” Lando pouted in return, voice slightly whiny at his friend’s words. It was true, there was nothing more he’d want than Alex to get gold two of the games, and he knew it was almost a guarantee, despite Alex telling him ten times already that it was still all to play for.   
  
“And I’d very much like that too. But I already have one, and given I thought I’d be going home empty handed, I’ll still go home delighted. Two’s a bit too much though, I’ve not got it in me I don’t think?” Alex questioned in reply, calmly downplaying his hopes, whilst also still managing to sound proud of the first gold. It was what Lando admired about Alex, the fact that he was always so humble, never taking anything for granted, even at the highest sporting level.   
  
“Alex, you’re overthinking again. You qualified first, broke the world record in the semi finals, you’re the man they all want to beat, you’re the man who’ll have the gold around his neck in a couple of hours. I believe in you, okay, even if nobody else will.” Lando simply reassured him, resting a hand on Alex’s shoulder, gently rubbing his thumb along the muscle in an attempt to calm him down.    
  
“That’s maybe the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me, bar my parents. Thank you, Lando.” Alex mused in response, a short sigh escaping his lips at the compliment. Lando didn’t know whether it was an illusion, but a light blush seemed to blossom over Alex’s cheeks, bringing a smile to his face, butterflies starting to fly a little in the younger Brit’s stomach.

“Now go out there and show them who’s boss okay. I lo-” Lando started to say, before stopping mid sentence, realising what was about to be said if he didn’t have self restraint. It wasn't something he’d come to accept easily, despite the warning signs being there for years, and he couldn’t confess it right before a career changing moment for his best friend, he wouldn’t deserve that. “I’m proud of you,” was what he eventually muttered back to Alex, but he knew Alex knew what he meant to say, and that there was no coming back from here, for better or worse.

“I know you do. Can we discuss this later?” Alex asked cautiously, trying to not think about the implications of the statement, even though the intent was clear as day. He’d known for a while, and wasn’t opposed per se, but he wanted to know just how serious Lando’s intent was, and couldn’t afford to be debating things with an olympic final so close.

“I’ll wait however long you need.” Lando nodded, turning his back on the changing rooms to go back to the spectator area, given the clock only read 45 minutes to go. Before he could do, Alex grabbed his wrist briefly, smiling equally as brightly back at him, capturing his attention for just a moment longer.

“Thank you, Lando.” Alex gently spoke before releasing his wrist from his grasp, letting Lando walk away once again.

The next time he saw the Brit, it was when he walked out for the event parade, walking out to the applause of the whole aquatic centre, as the music blasted from the speakers. It was all a bit of a blur, all the cheers and lights overwhelming, but he still found Lando in the crowd, the one constant of this whole experience. 

As he stood on the poolside, stripping his tracksuit, he thought of piercing blue eyes and messy curls, how much he’d love to look at them all day. He was racing for Lando, he’d decided, he needed to show the Brit that he was right in his beliefs.

As the noise of the room dimmed, and he rose to the starting block, he thought of the loud, contagious laugh the Brit was so known for, the melody echoing in his ears like his favourite song, the only song he could hear in the silence of the room as he adjusted his goggles one last time, ready for the mad dash to the line, to the illustrious gold medal. 

As the gun sounded, he leapt forward, the time in the air seeming to take forever before touching the water, breaking the surface soon after. From then onwards it was autopilot, his arms dragging him forwards each time, the burning sensation present but numbed by the sheer adrenaline in his veins, the drive to win the medal pushing him through the pain. He didn’t know how long he’d been swimming for or how long he had left, all his brain knew at that moment was the circular motion of his arms and the butterfly kick, it was all he needed to know for his body to carry him forward. Eventually, the timing sensor hit his hands, and looking up, he saw on the leaderboard exactly what he’d hoped to see, the big gold number 1 by his name.

_ Two time Olympic gold medallist. _

It only began to sink in after he was out the water, the tears rolling down his cheeks as he waved to the crowd. Somebody handed him a Union Jack from the crowd, and he immediately started to wave it around in the air, punching the air furiously as the achievement really began to register. This was his life’s work, everything he’d ever known, a real dream come true moment, and he wasn’t fully sure how he should even  _ react.  _

The rest of the evening was a huge high on adrenaline for him, only really remembering the repeat interviews and the moment the medals ceremony happened, welling up with tears as God Save The Queen played in his honour, trying to sing along through the sobs escaping his lips. The medal weighed heavy on his neck but he barely cared, it was an Olympic gold, and nothing could compare to this night for him. Not even the company of Lando afterwards, who was equally as buzzing, desperate to cling on to him at every opportunity.

The afterparty was messy, Alex could remember that much, and the fact that tequila somehow got involved. That was about as far as his memory served him, nothing else coherent really coming up in his train of thought. Waking up the next morning, nothing around him really served to remind him of what exactly he’d done as celebration, aside from the red solo cups on the nightstand which were a staple of any party of Team GB. Beside him in the bed though, Lando was cuddled into his side, which under normal circumstances would have alerted Alex that something had indeed happened which shouldn’t have. But for this once, as a two-time Olympic medallist, he found he actually didn’t care that he was in bed with Lando, actually finding it comforting to have him as the little spoon as his gentle snores still filled the room. He remembered he’d promised Lando a talk about their feelings after the event, but it was likelier instead of talking, there was kissing, and again, Alex found no reason to complain, it was what he wanted after all. He knew eventually all this would have to come out, but until that moment he allowed himself the luxury of having this simple bliss with Lando, at peace with the Brit tucked into his side as sunlight started to seep into the room.


	4. 4

The Olympic final, unfamiliar territory for Nicholas. He’d only just scraped through to the final 35, but regardless, this was it, the final day of competition, anyone up for a chance of a medal. He knew he’d be lucky to even get a top 10, his preliminary rounds scrappy and full of errors, but this was the world’s biggest stage, and maybe a miracle could happen for him. Maybe, just maybe, he could catch the field off guard and sneak a huge result.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss George being there, the Brit being absent since the first round of action, but he had to move on from it all, especially with an Olympic Final about to commence. He still yearned over the Brit, caught up by his charming smile and piercing eyes, and hoped to someday get another chance with George, away from prying eyes. 

Sebastian had been to the Olympic final before, and Nicky was thankful to have him on board as a coach, as he knew how to handle the situation at hand, one completely unknown to himself. He’d not expected to qualify for the final, so to be there was a bit of a surprise, not only to himself but to his family too, not trying to get their expectations raised ahead of the games. It was a given that Max and Charles had both qualified towards the front of the field, and he knew it would be a tough job to beat them, but he’d seen them make mistakes before, knew this was a tricky course that would catch even the best of riders off guard. 

He’d been drawn with the number 6, the number which yielded his first ever equestrian victory at the age of 14, and he hoped it would carry the same luck today, carrying him towards success in the final. He’d already achieved all he thought he would, so the pressure was off, he could go out and enjoy himself, have fun taking on the course. His ankle still hurt and would likely hold him back, but the fact he’d even made the final was a huge achievement.

“You ready to go?” Seb asked him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I just want to get it over with, really. Now I’m here, I want to just get it done.” Nicky replied, gently running his hand over the mane of Sophia Marilena, giving her the final checks before the competition. The audience was audible from the paddock, which only added to the intensity, and at this point his excitement was reaching fever pitch, he just wanted to get out there for one last time.

“Just do what you normally do, and you’ll be fine. Remember everything I said yesterday, and you’ll be good. And with the triple bars, don’t panic, attack them with intensity and you’ll be golden.” Seb reassured him once again, cautiously reminding him to avoid an injury repeat like the earlier training run, which he still sported the effects of.

“Noted. I won’t let you guys down.” Nicky replied, trying to remain positive despite the obvious pressure there was for him to do well. He knew how much Seb loved showjumping, and to work alongside someone like him was an absolute honour, but the amount of pressure that came with it was sometimes too much. Being known as ‘Vettel’s Prodigy’ wasn’t always helpful, it came with the immediate expectation to do well, and unfortunately the results weren’t where everyone expected, destroying his self confidence for a while, despite Seb’s promise to stay with him through it all.

“You’ve not let me down, Nicky. You’ve overcome the odds to even be competing, most guys would’ve quit by this point, and yet you’re still here, in the final.” Seb told him, voice calming enough to momentarily snap Nicky out of his downward spiral of emotion.

“This is literally my last chance, Seb. Maybe it’s true what they all say, that my dad’s funding is why I’m on the national team instead of someone else. Haven’t you seen all the times I’ve made mistakes?” he asked the German in response, slipping back to the negativity that had begun to manifest. He wished for things to be different, but there was no changing history of the past, all he could do was change history for the future.   
  
“But you’ve also had plenty of times where you’ve been the best rider for Canada, don’t forget that. Your father’s money isn’t why you’re here, it’s your talent, his money can’t buy a place in an Olympic final.” Seb sternly told him, highlighting all the good performances instead of lingering on the bad ones. He knew from past competitions that things wouldn’t always go to plan, but the key to success was aiming to come back stronger.

“I guess I’m just doubting myself.” Nicky replied, bowing his head slightly at the confession.   
  
“And that’s okay. Just know that whatever happens, it won’t stop everyone being proud of you.” Seb reassured, moving over to take Nicky into a brief hug, despite the Canadian towering over his shorter figure.

“I’ll do whatever I can, it’s all I can do.” he smiled back at Seb, trying to keep positive as he waited for the call to the arena, the competition about to kick off.   
  
“Good luck, Nicky.” Seb called out, starting to walk back towards the arena. With a wave, Nicky called out in response, a simple “thanks Seb”, before the German was gone, and it was just him and Sophia Marilena, alone and ready to take on the Olympic Final.

No less than 5 minutes later, the organisers finally gave him the signal, and he clambered onto the saddle, securing his grip on the reins and checking his footing on the stirrups. With a confident nod, he trotted forward, warming up slightly as he adjusted to the feeling of the arena, the audience greeting him with a polite applause, which in the relative silence sounded like wild cheering.

As the noise of the audience began to fade, he cantered towards the first jump, his mind completely focused on the 16 obstacles between him and a shot at an Olympic medal. A simple gate started off the run, and he cleared it with relative ease, Sophia landing steadily on her feet, charging forward towards the wall & rails jump, which she soon flew over. 

At this point was almost second nature for Nicky, so he was more running on instinct than anything else, letting himself enjoy the moment to the maximum. With each coming jump, he let himself be free, letting out sighs of relief at every clear landing and avoided fault. It felt like no time at all before he was coming up to the water jump, which he knew would be one of his weaknesses, having previously faltered on those jumps the most in the past. Thankfully this time it was cleared successfully, and another hit of adrenaline surged through his veins, fuelling him for the second half of the course, which he knew would be harder, and could ruin his Olympic dream.

With every coming jump, he kept trying to block the looming fear over the finale of triple bars, the jump which almost put him out of the games. His ankle was throbbing but it wasn’t an option to quit at this point, he had to fight until the end, until he could no longer fight. An oxer and a gate soon followed in quick succession, before a post & rail and another oxer, with a bush & rails soon after that, and the high intensity was throwing him off slightly, losing him precious time which could cause a fault. But still, he cleared his mind before the wall came, and then the triple bars, which he attacked with all the strength he could, Sophia Marilena leaping upwards with great momentum.

A variety of thoughts went through his mind in the air, the thought of another violent landing too present for his liking. He prayed that everything would be alright, that he hadn’t misjudged it again, but the airtime seemed to linger on forever, not the mere second that it was, and it gave him enough to worry that things could go wrong again, and that he could be even more hurt.

The moment he felt himself touch the ground again, he let out a mighty roar, relief surrounding all his senses as he realised his first run was over. He charged towards the timing gate, willing Sophia on with all his power, and when he crossed it, the euphoria hit, the audience’s cheers ringing in his ears as he embraced the moment. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face, especially when his time flashed up on the leaderboard, due to the fault count displaying as zero, and the graphics showing him as the overall leader. With a contented smile, he praised Sophia, throwing both arms over her figure, proud of the way she’d performed out on the course.

He hoped that the score would hold until the very end, but he knew there were more impressive contenders in the field, like Charles and Max, and that bronze would realistically be the most realistic target of them all, even that being incredibly far out of reach. Still, the faultless round was the perfect start to his finals campaign, and he hoped that somehow, just somehow, he’d do enough to land a place in history with a gold medal.

Time seemed to pass incredibly slowly as the 35 riders all competed, feeling like forever before he had his position confirmed in the standings as joint leader heading into the final 20, alongside 7 other riders, Max and Charles being just 2 of those who he tied with. It was a relief to know he’d made it to the final 20, but at the same time it just added more pressure, now he knew that realistically, the gold was still at play for him, and this was his moment to finally break through and show his worth to the world after all these years of trying and failing.

Number 17 was his start number for the second run, significantly later, and the wait was agonising in the paddock, seeing many of his contenders come and go, some wearing disappointed expressions, others proud smiles. All except for Charles, who came back wearing a cocky smirk, almost an impression of “catch me if you can!”, and it took no guesses to figure out he’d scored another clean run, going alongside his previous faultless run from the morning. 

The fences had changed but Nicky knew the rhythm of the course was mostly unchanged, which went in his favour massively. The triple bars still remained at the end, much to his annoyance, but the general rise and fall of pace was something he was comfortable with, which he knew would help coming into the second run, one which could seal him a final shot at gold. 

His ankle still throbbed but nonetheless he climbed onto the saddle of his horse, trusting in Sophia Marilena to bring him home to a good result. Seb stayed with him right until the last moment, giving every bit of advice he possibly could. He’d been in Nicky’s shoes before, and at this moment Nicky was beyond grateful to have someone like Seb as a coach, who knew the situation well enough to have the best advice to give.

“Enjoy it!” Were the last words Seb said to him before he left to enter the arena once again, this time to a slightly warmer reception from the crowd. He tried to channel every single piece of advice Sebastian gave him whilst he trotted around the start area, preparing to tackle the course and go for gold, something a mere week ago seemed so out of reach for him.

As each fence flew by, his confidence grew, and despite a close call at the wall jump, as well as a weak takeoff for the triple bars, somehow no faults were recorded for him again, not even a time fault like he’d done before in the past. At points, it seemed like it could be game over, especially as Sophia’s hooves dragged along the top of the wall fence, but to his surprise and delight nothing came of those worries, a perfect run once again to cement his place at the top of the standings alongside Charles.

It was only once everyone had run again that it really sunk in, that this was his moment in the sun, after so long of trying. Only Max had managed a perfect run from the rest of the contenders, meaning that a jump-off was required, but no matter the result, it was a guaranteed Olympic medal. All his life’s work built up to this moment, all the injuries and setbacks, and the realisation that it had all paid off was nothing short of euphoric for Nicky.

One more round of jumping stood between him and the gold, one which he needed to nail. It needed to be perfect, nothing better would do in that moment, and falling so short now would be agonising, despite knowing the worst he could come home with was bronze. For reassurance, he looked towards the stands, finding the familiar faces of his family, decked out in team Canada merchandise and holding the national flag proudly. He was so grateful to have their support throughout the years, knew how proud they were of him, and he hoped he could repay them with the greatest gift of all.

His eyes moved through the crowd to find Lance and Esteban sitting a few rows back, both locked in conversation. He was glad to see them there, knowing his closest friends were there for him, but he was hoping to see somebody else beside them, someone more important to him than Lance and Esteban were. Despite the almost-kiss, he still hoped George would come back someday, react to the obvious chemistry, but there was no visible attempt from him, instead only running away from the situation which pained Nicky more than it should’ve. He knew it was stupid to catch feelings like that, but George’s ice blue eyes were just too mesmerising for him to ignore, and before he knew it he’d fallen in love with a relative stranger, miles from home with no chance to ever see him again. It was a situation he hated himself for, despite how his heart beat just that much faster for George.

At this point, it was all or nothing, and he knew he had to give it everything he physically could. His ankle was throbbing, but he was too far gone to just quit, settling for bronze just wouldn’t do. Not when there was gold on the line, a chance to make Olympic history, he would try everything possible in order to bring home the medal, one 25 years in the making.

The announcer called his name, and he entered the arena for the last time, knowing he’d be doing a reduced version of the second course for a chance at gold. It felt too surreal to even comprehend, a childhood dream turned reality, and he tried to take in the atmosphere as much as possible, despite the obvious tension in the air. With a deep breath, he turned the trotting into a fast canter, ready to attack the course. 

The first 2 jumps were fast paced gates, and he cleared those with ease, flying over them with maximum control, landings as smooth as ever. Following on was the post & rail, post & plank duo, which he’d struggled with in the practice but had cleared perfectly in the second round, and he was thankful for a repeat of round 2 as he sailed clear over the jumps, leaving little margin to spare between Sophia’s hooves and the bars. Next was a wall & rails, a relatively easy jump, and he didn’t need to focus too much before trying to jump, instead shifting his weight forward on instinct as he felt himself move up into the air, landing without any difficulty a moment later. At this point he was in a good rhythm, content with how everything was going, preparing mentally for the water jump, which was a known weakness of his. More obstacles came his way, including a challenging oxer which he was only a centimetre from faulting, but nothing had gone wrong, everything in harmony and going his way.

Until, of course, the water jump. Nicky knew in the back of his mind that it would be that or the triple bars finale that would be his achilles heel, but he hoped that his positive momentum would still carry him forward, a foolish assumption for him to make. The moment he landed he felt the water splash up beside him, and he knew instantly that it would be 4 penalty points, and his chance of gold likely gone. There would be no stopping Max or Charles, not with their near perfect records, and he knew the fairytale story was over, it was bronze to his name, but still an Olympic medal. Determined to carry on, he finished off the rest of the obstacles, including the damned triple bars, but nothing could offset the feeling of disappointment within his gut, knowing he bottled the chance to pull off a lifetime dream.

All he could do now was watch as Charles and Max duelled for the gold, he knew it would come down to time rather than faults, and he was excited to see the pair of them fight it out. He’d known the pair for a while, competing on the world stage with them, and knew it would be landmark for them as a couple to share the Olympic podium, even if the world didn’t know just yet. 

Charles was the next to go, and Nicky watched the action on one of the big screens in the paddock, seeing him circle the arena a couple of times before starting the run. If he was honest, he hoped that Charles majorly messed up, to help him get the gold, but he knew it was highly improbable, given Charles had been near untouchable for the last 2 or so years, but there was still a tiny spark of hope that remained for him, that somehow he could get the gold, despite the odds being stacked. 

No sooner had his run started, the crucial mistake was made, Nicky letting out a little sigh of relief as the bar hit the floor of the arena. He knew Charles would be kicking himself, as it was the first jump as well, but he knew what pressure major finals could bring, having been a victim of some main stage failures before. But just because the bar had fallen, it didn’t mean all hope was lost for Charles, as the run was  _ fast _ , at just over 43 seconds, and in all honesty, he didn’t believe that he’d gone faster than that, too disappointed to even look over to check the scoreboard. 

Max was the final one to run, and Nicky knew he was able to put in a 42 second run on his usual days, and on spectacular days he could even bring it down a few tenths, meaning that if he kept it clean, the gold was easily his. Nicky didn’t even bother watching the screen, he knew how it would play out, with Max in gold and Charles in silver, and he resigned himself to the fact he’d got an Olympic bronze, which despite the initial disappointment was still something he was incredibly proud of.

Except for the fact that things didn’t always go as planned. He should’ve known that at the Olympics, things never went quite to plan, and he should’ve expected Max to possibly crumble under the pressure in the way that he and Charles had. It was so close to the end for Max, the final jump just taken a bit too early, his horse Assad clipping the final bar and getting a dodgy landing as a result, and he really felt bad for the Dutchman, having all this pressure put on his shoulders at such a young age, pressure he hadn’t fully been able to live up to.

Stupidly, he hadn’t checked the timing sheets on his own run, but he was certain that Charles was faster than him, so Max’s result would show him whether it was a silver or a bronze. It was just the nervous wait now until Max’s results were confirmed, and he knew they’d be in within no time at all, his heart pounding faster and faster with every passing second. Eventually, the screen showed the results, confirming to him what he already knew. Bronze.

Verstappen - NED 

Assad

Penalties: 4 - Time: 0, Jump: 4

Time: 44.02s

Rank 2

He could hear the crowd cheer as they realised the result, and he could see the Dutch team celebrating their silver, despite losing to Leclerc. But what confused him was the disappointment in the Monegasque paddocks, no cheers or anything, only a sorrowful expression resting on Charles’ face. He’d have thought they’d be happy with a gold, but instead Charles was moping, and he was never usually sad, not least over a good competition. 

But before he could comprehend anything more, he caught sight of the leaderboard on the big screen, and to his disbelief, it wasn’t Charles' name by p1. 

He’d heard many stories of what it was like to become an Olympic champion, but he’d disregarded them for the most part, unlikely that he’d ever find himself in that position. But now, he was here, he’d made his dream come true, a title 25 years in the making. 

Before he knew what was happening, the tears were falling, choked sobs escaping his lips as he took the moment in. Sebastian came running over moments later, scooping Nicky into a large hug, throwing both arms around his neck, a beaming smile on his face. He still couldn’t believe the feeling of being champion, not even with Seb’s screams of victory filling his ears and the bustle of cameramen trying to capture the scenes playing out behind the scenes. His thoughts went to his family in the crowd, how he’d more than done them proud, which set off another round of tears, but he didn't really care at that point if he was crying on camera, the emotions were running too high for him to care.

The buzz of euphoria kept running through his veins in the moments after victory, even once the initial shock had worn off. He genuinely couldn’t keep a smile off his face throughout the initial interviews post competition, and he was mostly running on autopilot through the first round of media, everything a bit of a blur as everyone came up to congratulate him from all the various delegations. Charles and Max were both polite in their congratulations as they all gathered before the podium, but he could tell it was all a front to hide the bitter disappointment of losing gold by a fine margin, and he did feel bad for them, knowing the immense pressure they carried. But it still couldn’t dent the high he was currently on, nothing could bring him down from the sheer happiness running through his system, this day possibly the best of his life.

The prospect of receiving his medal still brought tears to his eyes, and the nerves were ever present as he waited in the wings for the call to enter the arena, to receive the gold he’d fought for over the last 6 days. He knew his family were there waiting in the front row, and he could just imagine the proud looks on their faces, knowing that in no time, he’d see them in the crowd. As the grounds staff indicated them to walk forward, the official games music came over the speakers, and only then did it truly hit him just what was about to happen.

Walking out to an applauding crowd was always a mood booster, but walking out as Olympic champion was something else. Every single cheer sounded louder, the flashes of the cameras seemed just that much brighter, it was truly an otherworldly experience for Nicky. Looking to the stand, he could see his mother standing up on her chair, hands in front of her mouth as she tried not to cry. His brothers were both holding up the large Canadian flag, whilst his sister just stood and applauded, standing close to his father Michael who, despite his usual cold expression, was looking on with pride, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes. 

He’d grown up watching the sport for as long as he’d known, seen the greats of the sport come and go, even remembered watching Sebastian’s Olympic title live on tv, despite it being on at some ridiculous hour. He’d watched the legends, but never once considered the fact he could ever become one, not wanting to dream past the realms of possibility. But now, this was his defining moment, his place in history, his coming of age from a “billionaire boy” to an Olympic champion. 

_ “And now, your gold medallist, Nicholas Latifi of Canada.” _

The words rang out in his ears as he stepped forward onto the podium, waving out towards the crowds as he beamed from ear to ear, slightly laughing in disbelief. He couldn’t entirely believe this was real, the feeling of victory too foreign to process. But looking around into the crowd, and finding his family looking back with pride, he realised it was most definitely real, this wasn’t imagination anymore. 

The moment the medal was placed over his neck, his emotional barrier broke, tears falling from his eyes once again. It was an emotional journey, all of his being invested in it from a young age, and this was the ultimate prize to pick up, the one he’d dreamt of since day one, and he was now owner of the illusive gold medal. The weight of the gold weighed down slightly, and he cradled it in his hands slightly, feeling the coolness against his palms, still trying to process the situation at hand. He tried to keep his cool but the emotions kept coming, and seeing Lance and Esteban in the crowd too, cheering him on only served to make more tears fall, too overcome by the wave of emotion. 

Hearing O Canada was always special to Nicky, but hearing it for his own victory was something else, the national pride searing as he sang every word under his breath, despite the occasional hiccup and choked sob. His eyes scanned the crowd during the anthem, seeing the various flags and banners, a sense of pride building with every maple leaf spotted amongst the sea of people. But in that sea of people, there was one who stood out to him more than the rest, one who’d finally stopped running.

His breath caught in his throat as he realised that George was in the crowd, too stunned to really do much else. He could see the Brit gently smiling as he showed Lando something on his phone, and he could feel the heat slowly rising to his cheeks once again. But this wasn’t the place to be showing his feelings, this was his moment to bask in the glory, he wanted to remember this for the achievement rather than the crush.

Looking up, George caught his gaze, even from a distance, and Nicky couldn’t help but be captivated by the ocean blue that he loved so dearly. He saw George mouth something, looking like ‘I’m proud of you’, and he couldn’t help but smile brighter at the words. He mouthed back ‘Thanks, you’ll get yours soon.’ in response before looking away, trying to ignore the burning presence from George. 

The rest of the anthem played, and Nicky let out a proud smile to the crowds watching on, hand placed over the national crest on his jacket. This was his moment, standing on top of the world, and seeing everyone’s admiration was one of the greatest feelings ever. But having George there was just that much more satisfying to him, after everything that had happened over the past week, and he was just glad that George maybe didn’t hate him just yet.


	5. 5

Waking up on competition day was one of the most surreal experiences for George. Some mornings he woke up relaxed, others the nerves were already present, whilst others he just couldn’t wait to hit the pool for the day, excitement running through his veins.

Unfortunately for George, today was the second scenario, some kind of tension already building within him, despite the competition being hours away. He knew the field was tough, but even then, he’d proven his worth at the world champs the previous year despite injury, and knew he could hold his own and bring home a finals place.

Cursing, he dragged himself out of bed, letting the sunlight filter into the room. He could already tell it was going to be a bad day, but tried to not let the thought consume him too much, it didn’t matter so much if he made a few mistakes in his prelim, just so long as he made it home in the top 18. Sighing, he slipped on some team gear, walking downstairs to the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat. 

Finding Lando and Alex at the breakfast table wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, it had been their plan for most of the games, but what struck George was the sense of intimacy between the pair, the slight pink tinge to Lando’s cheeks which hadn’t been there before. 

“Hey George, how ya doing? Ready to smash the prelim?” Alex spoke up, casting his gaze away from Lando and towards George, sending a polite smile in his direction, voice full of encouragement.

“I’ll try, I’ll try! Anyways, how is it for you, Mr double Olympic champion?” He deflected, trying to take the pressure off slightly. He knew he carried the nation’s hopes for another medal, especially after his synchro performance, and he just hoped the nervous feeling would shift before the prelim.

“Don’t give me that George, it still hasn’t sunk in!” Alex retorted, a bright smile adorning his face as he remembered all the memories from the nights of victory, still slightly overcome with emotion.

“I can tell by your smile Alex, you’re not normally this chirpy at 8am! And Lando my man, bronze with another final coming up tonight!” George perked up, turning his attention towards his other friend, who’d been quiet up until that point.

“Yeah, it should be good, I’ve got Alex there for support too which always helps!” Lando replied to him, sneaking a gaze over to Alex as he mentioned his name, cheeks once again glowing pink. George looked between the pair, noticing the closeness which had never seemingly been there, and the blush on Lando’s cheeks, trying to process what he’d just discovered.

“Are you guys together? Just to be clear, I’ve been out the loop so might’ve missed something?” He eventually asked, after a little bit of thinking, and immediately the pair of them tore their gaze away from him, shying away slightly.

“Yeah, it happened after my second gold. It’s still new though.” Alex replied eventually, fear still caught in his eyes from being found out like that, in the infancy of the relationship.

“I was the one who accidentally said I loved you, and yeah here we are!” Lando added on to his statement, leaning closer to Alex towards the end, resting his head against his shoulder.

“Oh Lando, I’m sorry but that’s just typical you!” George slightly laughed, causing the other 2 to follow. He was glad that even with his 2 friends together, the dynamic wasn’t changed, and that he could still make the same jokes like the British Boyband in the days of old.

“And you’re acting like typical George Russell around Nicholas, refusing to say anything and just praying the universe will grant you a miracle.” Lando retorted, seeing his behavior at the showjumping the day before, how he always watched from afar but never dared to inch closer, not after whatever had happened between them previously.

“Ouch Lando, ouch.” George responded, moving to place both hands over his heart, making a sound mimicking fake shock. He knew that he should probably just talk to Nicky, but he just didn’t have the nerve, the Canadian way too out of his league. He came from a wealthy background, a life of luxury, and what was he to that? 

“Anyways George, we really hope you’ll get things together soon, as well as get your second gold. We’re in this together, and all deserve to come home as champions.” Alex reassured him, sensing his mood change to something more negative. His nerves subsided a little bit, but the feeling still loomed, that something was about to go horribly wrong.

“That’s more like it guys. Here’s to being champions!” He replied, trying to sound as cheerful as possible, but his voice wavered slightly, confidence slipping away by the second. 

\---

Arriving at the training centre, his nerves still hadn’t subsided, if anything they’d gotten worse, not better. He was cursing whatever had caused this string of cruel fate, as he now knew he couldn’t give his best when trying to manage extreme nerves like this. It was almost a risk to be competing in this state, his mental game completely off focus, but he’d come too far to quit now, he instead resigned himself to the fact he wouldn’t come home with an ideal result, another opportunity blown.

During the team warmups in the morning, he dialled into his normal routine, doing the stretches and weight training like every other session, before running through his platform drills into the foam pit and onto the crash mats, building confidence ahead of the evening’s prelims. The nerves seemed to somewhat subside the more he pushed himself, but he knew it was only a temporary fix, and once the games were going, they’d be back.

Hitting the pool, he tried to make the most of the warmup time, conversing with some of his fellow contenders in the hour’s session. He ran through 2 reps of each dive, feeling relatively satisfied with how everything went, despite the execution not really being perfect. It was only then that the situation really hit, that the next time he hit the pool would be for competition, and the nerves he’d been trying to block came running back with full force, instantly knocking his composure. 

As soon as the clock hit 7pm, George was ready for competition. There were 37 qualified contenders for 18 semi final places, and George knew from experience that some of the good guys would be going home early, the Olympics was where you had to show up or get out, and he was determined to get through. He knew the Chinese duo were heavy favourites for the gold, both Yang Jian & Yang Hao being near unstoppable for the last few years. The Canadian duo had also had relative success over the past few years, firstly with Vincent and more recently with Lance, but the traditional powerhouses of the US and Russia still remained as mighty challengers. New on the scene were the French pair of Benjamin & Esteban, both using the technique of lower difficulty dives with better execution to their advantage, although it needed mistakes from the others to be fully effective. And lastly, there was Tom, a legend of the sport who’d never quite taken the gold in individual, always the bridesmaid but never the bride. He’d made it to the top step in synchro, but George secretly hoped that if it wasn’t himself taking the gold, it would be Tom.

His strategy for competition was the same; start and end well with strong dives, and put the weaker ones in the middle. It had been a tactic ever since he started competing internationally, introduced at the advice of Tom Daley of all people. It gave him the confidence to start off on a high, and as he approached the end of the board, he didn’t have much to be nervous about, knowing he could nail the back 2 ½, 2 ½ twists well enough to score highly. Taking off, he swung his arms back, wrapping them around to provide the twist required whilst rotating, something he struggled a lot with in his younger years. Tracking everything in his peripheral vision, he grabbed his legs for the last somersault, bringing them to his chest as he fell, kicking out a moment later to a clean break, feeling a light impact, a relief to him.

The scoreboard reflected his early confidence, 88.20 was the mark, which put him securely above the qualification zone in fourth, only behind the Chinese duo and Lance, who’s opening inward 3 ½ was near perfect. He knew he had that dive coming up in round 3, and he was already dreading it, knowing it was rather hit and miss, much like his back 3 ½ in round 4. He just hoped form would be on his side for once, gifting him the good results he needed.

Round 2 brought George the armstand dive, something he’d come to enjoy over the years. It was a tricky balancing act, one which many people on the world stage had messed up before, and George only prayed that once he was up on his wrists, he’d stay up. He stood up on his tiptoes, feeling the weight release onto his wrists, and he pressed down as much as possible as he lifted his legs higher, trying to keep his balance. Before hitting the top, however, George felt one wrist weaken a little, and his legs lowered, coming down from the armstand instantly, and he cursed as he realised the consequences of being unable to save the dive. He’d never taken a 2 point penalty before in competition, but there were many occasions in practice where he’d come down from armstands, and he was devastated to realise that this was the first time he’d done it in competition, at the Olympics of all places.

Regathering his thoughts, he went back to the end of the board, hopping up into the armstand again, balancing on his wrists before pushing off, completing the three somersaults before entering the water, a little short of vertical but nothing too minor. Despite this, he knew the mark would be low, the 2 point deduction would cost him on the 3.5 tariff dive, and the low score of 52.50 reflected this hit, sending him down the leaderboard slightly. 

Round 3 really wasn’t any better, the inward 3 ½ costing him like he feared it would, washing past vertical to only pick up about 54 points, when he knew he was capable of hitting 85 or even 90 points. It was underwhelming, and exactly what he thought the earlier nerves would lead to, but he tried to regain his confidence ahead of his back 3 ½, the dive he knew was rather hit or miss.

It was a miss. A heavy, heavy miss. Somehow, he’d managed to lean back further than extra on takeoff, giving him extra rotation than required, and even with compensation for it with an early kick, he still sailed past vast vertical on entry, a large volume of water being kicked up in the process. The 43.20 on the scoreboard was an insult, and a great burning one at that, one that he knew he deserved way better than, but the large 25 by his name wasn’t any consolation either, all it did was remind him that he was set to go home early, fail in his quest for gold number 2.

Round 5 built his confidence back up a bit with a reverse 3 ½ for about 80 points, and he hoped that he’d build back up to the qualification margin, which was falling ever so slightly as more mistakes were made through the field. He knew that his tariff on his last dive was high, and he still had a shot, but it wasn’t looking likely anymore. All he could do was try to enjoy the moment, as he wouldn’t be back here for another 4 years. 

Front 4 ½ was a dive so many people hated, but for George, it was the complete opposite, he loved the feeling of rotation in the freefall, and he knew it was a good dive to go out with a bang on. Taking a breath, he started to run, doing his platform runup before jumping, tucking into shape instantly whilst rotating at intense speed, tracking the somersaults, seeing the water come and go before kicking out, aiming straight at it. He knew the dive was a bit short of vertical, but he still thought it would be good enough to at least have a shot at qualifying.

He held his breath as he waited for the scores, and he wasn’t too disappointed in the 77.70, knowing the dive was short of vertical so deserved the 7’s from the judges. The 9 beside his name wasn’t promising though, he knew there were still about 15 other divers still yet to run, the majority of who could easily beat his benchmark of 395.90.

He should’ve known that it would end badly, the nerves a telltale sign that things wouldn’t quite go to plan. 19th place in the preliminary wasn’t what he’d envisioned going to Paris for, and this time there wasn’t even an excuse of injury to hide behind, this was all his fault, he’d messed it up for his team and country. He just wanted to shut the world out, cry his worries away until he could leave France for good, even Lando and Alex’s words of encouragement wouldn’t help him here. It sounded selfish, but George needed the time for himself more than anything else, it was his failure, and he needed to be ready to handle the consequences of it when the morning came.

The drive back to the accommodation was spent in relative silence, the car radio turned down to levels of near silence, the dull hum of some popular song barely audible over the speakers. The Parisian skyline edged closer, but for George it felt mocking, reminding him of his fall from grace, the shame building over the immense failure. The dark skies only further added to his downward spiral, and as soon as he got back to the buildings, he walked away, not daring to speak another word to anyone, he needed to get away from the sights and sounds of the city, until he was no longer caught up by his own failure.

\---

“George! George! Wake up now, our semi’s in 2 hours!” 

That was  _ not _ the way George expected to be woken up. Somehow, Tom had gotten the room key and was shaking him awake, saying that the pair of them had their semi final in a matter of hours. It just didn’t make sense to him, how could he have been a part of a semi final despite being knocked out the previous day, and how did Tom persuade Lando to let him into the room.

“What the hell Tom, I came 19th. Why are you waking me for your semi? Surely you can go without me there?” George asked, too confused to process everything. The light stung his eyes from his sudden wakeup call, and he cursed under his breath at Tom for doing this, knowing that he wasn’t a fan of mornings.   
  
“George, I mean our semi. Yang Jian’s out of the running, tore some muscles in his biceps on his final dive, woke up in pain and had to give the place to you, the reserve.” Tom explained, a hopeful smile resting on his face as he awaited his compatriot’s response.

“What the hell. Are you sure it’s not too late?” George asked, still unsure of whether he was dreaming or not, trying to take everything in in his confused state.   
  
“Positive. Jane told me to pass the news on to you, we’re leaving in 10 minutes, so grab your things and hurry up, we’ve got breakfast in the car!” Tom just enthusiastically told him, before running back out of the room and towards his own accommodation a few floors lower.

George could hardly believe his luck, fate had thrown him a lifeline of sorts, and he now knew he couldn’t afford to mess up. Judging off the prelims, the medals looked like they’d be to China, Canada and Russia, with the Frenchmen both close behind, bringing a 6 way fight for the silver medal. George realistically had to aim low, so just wanted to break the 400 barrier, and maybe go without dropping a dive, not really aiming for a specific place in competition. If he made it to the final then great, but if he didn’t, he knew he didn’t lose anything, having already gotten incredibly lucky with the earlier withdrawal.

The next 2 hours were the most stressful George had ever been through in terms of competitions, not used to such hurry and intensity, having to declare his dive list again and partake in the warmup, trying to keep as focused as possible in the chaos. He managed to briefly catch up with both Lance and Esteban, who’d both made it through with no issues, and they were both glad to have him back in for the semi, the 3 of them coming closer in recent years after progressing to senior level in the same year. 

The competition was somewhat of a blur to George, gone with the blink of an eye, and honestly he was glad to get it over with, the feeling of satisfaction filling his veins after each minor success. Each dive was executed well, with George especially satisfied with his reverse 3 ½, which even managed a 10 from one judge. He didn’t over rotate too much on either the back 3 ½ or the inward 3 ½, and the rest of the dives kept their splashes low, and to his surprise he came home with a score above 500, something a day ago he’d have thought was impossible. Of course, Yang Hao led the field, with Lance in second, but to his surprise, he was the one in third, meaning he was securely in the final. It was certainly a change in fortune from the events 12 hours before, and he didn’t want to get too caught up in his confidence, but if he could do this, then maybe this evening would produce another miracle. 

Thankfully, France got 2 home divers into the final, with Esteban and Benjamin filling the top 5, Tom coming home a respectable 6th, and George was glad that Tom could retire after making his 4th Olympic final, knowing he’d had a long and successful career. He was sad to see him go, and scared to have to take up the role as British number 1 on platform, but George knew that it would come with time, and every new experience was only helping him build strength for the future.

He didn’t bother to go back to the village in the break, instead hanging out in the training room with Lance and Esteban, who’d also elected to stay. It was nice to just catch up with them away from the crowds, the pair of them much more open when the crowds were away.

George often wondered how they managed to hold a relationship together despite competing against each other, he couldn’t imagine doing it personally, but he admired those who made it work. He could remember when they had their first kiss, both lovestruck teenagers spurred on by the alcohol in their systems, and the memory felt like a lifetime ago, despite only being 2 years ago. He also couldn’t imagine having to hide from the media like they did, but at the same time he knew the sports world was still far from fully accepting, and it was often a sacrifice people had to make against their will. 

He honestly wanted what they had, a healthy relationship so filled with love, but he knew he blew the chance he had. Or rather, Lance ruined the moment and he still hadn’t found the nerve to repair what had broken. Nicholas still consumed his thoughts, he still loved the man with all of his being, but he knew with the Olympic title, he was too far out of reach now, so where was the cause in him fighting a lost cause. 

Sighing, he watched as Lance gently leaned over towards Esteban, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before leaning his head against the Frenchman’s shoulder, Esteban letting out a little giggle at the gesture. It was sickeningly sweet for George to watch, and as much as he was glad they were happy, it only reminded him of his complete failure to act on feelings when it counted. 

Thankfully it wasn’t long before the final training session began, and George was thankful that this time he got longer, the condensed morning session only allowing limited warmups. He was nervous, sure, but he knew at this stage there was nothing to lose, he shouldn’t have even been in the semi final, let alone the final. He just hoped that injury wouldn’t strike again, and that he’d be resigned to the same story as always, potential cut short through a torn muscle.

He laughed slightly as he saw Lance had remembered their bet from the previous summer, his previous black speedos discarded in favour of a bright pink pair, a maple leaf design printed on. In all honesty he’d expected Lance to chicken out of the bet, but to his amusement, Lance was instead embracing it, not at all ashamed about the bright colours he was donning. 

As the clock struck 6:30pm, everyone was ordered out of the pool, before the spectators all filed in, and the divers parade kicked off at 7pm, the event soon after. George had start slot 10, before Lance and after Benjamin, and it was quite intimidating being where he was. Being after the 2 home favourites was no easy task, and George was silently cursing their good performance, giving him the hardest task of anyone in the room.

The roars as he walked into the arena were immense, the home support almost deafening. He could see his parents in the crowd, holding up a large British flag with the words “Go George!” on it. He smiled brightly as he noticed their efforts, sending them a wave as he looked out to the crowds, looking for other people he knew. Thankfully Lando and Alex had made it down, watching on from the athletes area alongside other members of the British aquatics team. He also spotted Nicky watching along, Canadian flag in his hands, but disregarded him from his mind, he was there for Lance after all. 

He’d never been in an Olympic final, so didn’t really know what to expect, but he tried to treat it like any other competition, like the finals of the world series, which he’d been on for the last year. The crowds were bigger, sure, and there were probably millions more viewers, but it was just him, his body and the water, just like at any other competition.

He quickly adapted to the enthusiasm from the Parisian crowd, hearing the cheers for Auffret right as he prepared for his first dive. They were very loud, comparable to the crowds in Beijing for the world series, but he thankfully was able to drown out the background noise fairly easily, only focusing on the dive at hand, the back 2 ½ with 2 ½ twists. 

He knew it was good the moment he hit the water, feeling a clean vertical impact into the pool. He knew on his best days he could take 100 points from this dive, but today was just short of that, 97.2 as the final score. It was a solid benchmark, but he knew the dive wasn’t perfect, as indicated through the solid 9’s awarded by the judges. 

What was (near) perfect, however, was Lance’s dive that followed. Which George made the mistake of watching. He never usually watched the competition, as he knew it would only lead to more self applied pressure, but he couldn’t help but watch Lance’s dive, seeing him gracefully turn in the air before kicking out, hitting the water with a tiny splash, the audience going wild for him.

It only served to rile George up more, knowing what the others were capable of, and he couldn’t allow himself to be beaten when he had the exact same list of dives as Lance. The scoreboard showed him ahead at the end of round 1, but Lance’s dive was easier, and he knew the Canadian already had the edge on him, something he wasn’t best pleased about.

Round 2 was solid for George, an 87.5 for his armstand, and this time no coming down from it midway through. He knew he was diving well, but he knew he wasn’t executing things to his absolute best, and was probably being massacred by Yang Hao, alongside Lance, Tom, Esteban and Benjamin. It was only guesswork at this stage, but he had a fairly good idea, the audience’s cheers never lied anyway.

Rounds 3 and 4 were what undid George in the prelim, so he prayed for his own sanity that they’d be better this time. He focused as he approached for the inward 3.5, envisioning the dive sequence in his head briefly before walking to the end of the board, everyone’s eyes on his figure. He jumped upwards, rotating in towards the board, and George made sure to kick a little earlier than usual, hoping that it would help him out with his problem of over rotation. As soon as he hit the water though, he knew he’d landed too short, and the score of 78.4 reflected that.

Thankfully, his back 3 ½ went a lot better, breaking the 100 barrier for the first time at the games, causing the audience to break out into loud applause, which George could hear under the water. He knew it was exactly what he needed to stay in contention with the main pack, relatively aware of how the others were diving.

Little did everyone know, the competition would be turned on its head, by a failed attempt and withdrawal from Yang Hao. All he was doing was running up to the end of the board for his front 4 ½, when suddenly he stopped running, a yell of pain escaping his lips. Reaching down, he clutched his quadricep, and George knew immediately it was a hamstring problem, and it was game over for him. He felt bad, because he was truly the best out there, but at the same time it really opened up the game for everyone else to medal, something George wanted to be the beneficiary of.

Everything felt surreal from that point onwards, and George tried to stop himself from getting too carried away with the situation, he was prone to dreaming too big at times. But this was a huge opportunity, one that he really hoped he could take with both hands.

So caught up in the moment, he dropped the ball slightly on his reverse 3 ½, letting the others catch up at this point. He assumed by reactions that Tom was out the running for a medal, but could still top 5, but Lance, Esteban and Benjamin were still hounding him for the medals, although he wasn’t too sure, he knew how keen the French crowd was. He did know, however, that another sub 80 score wouldn’t cut it, and that if he wanted to medal, he needed to have a miracle final dive.

It didn’t help that he knew Esteban had performed his final dive relatively well, so the pressure was on for him to match or better it, knowing he had the upper hand on the difficulty front. Standing at the end of the board, he took a final breath, knowing that this could make or break his Olympic dream. He took one step forward, then another, before he ran forward, leaping upwards at the end of the platform, curling his body into the tuck shape. He could feel the sensation of rotation, despite the blurry vision, and he pinpointed his kicking spot with relative ease, aiming at the water and clasping both hands together, hoping that the entry was good enough.

10

9

8.5

101.75 points 

George could hardly believe his luck when he looked towards the scoreboard, especially when the scoreboard showed him in first place with only Lance to go. It only then hit him, silver was the worst he could do. 

He prepared himself for defeat, he knew how good Lance was, but kept the spark of hope alive, that things would go in his favour. He saw Lance take off, twist, somersault and land, and he couldn’t tell which way things would go. Sure, to the average person’s eye it was good, but George knew the judges would punish him for his slightly bent legs and flat feet in the twist.

The moment the scores came up, the audience let out a joyous cheer, and George looked over, seeing the number 2 by Lance’s name. He realised right there that he’d won the final, but he didn’t really know how to react, not ever being in this position before. He tried to look over to find Lance or Esteban, who’d been confirmed in third at this point, but he saw they were rather preoccupied with their celebration.

He already knew they were together, so Lance leaning in to kiss Esteban wasn’t a big deal to him, but to the audience, it was brand new information, the small gesture capturing everyone’s attention. George watched on with a proud smile, glad they finally didn’t have to hide it, and he wished that one day, he’d be able to do the same. He didn’t have any more excuses to hide behind now, and the games were over, he knew he had to make his move, he couldn’t afford to lose Nicky once again, not even Lance could stop them this time. 

Eventually the pair broke the kiss, and George walked over to congratulate the pair, Esteban getting his first Olympic medal on home soil. Lance had been there before in the synchro but he was still buzzing, his smile brighter than George had ever seen it before. He was probably still buzzing off kissing Esteban but even so, his megawatt smile was probably the largest one in the room, even his own couldn’t live up to it. 

The podium was the highlight of the evening for George, taking to the top of it once again, but this time as the solo champion. A day ago, he thought this would’ve been impossible, but now, he was here, standing atop the podium, God Save The Queen playing once again because of his success. He tried to keep his composure as he stood, but the sight of his mum and dad proudly watching on broke him, the tears he’d held back starting to fall. He looked to his left and saw Esteban was no better, obvious tear tracks illuminated by the arena lights, and whilst he knew Lance wasn’t a crier, his smile of disbelief still remained, his father in the stands more than happy to do the crying for the pair of them.

But the most beautiful thing in the world was Nicholas, standing there, a British flag in his clutches alongside the previous Canadian one. If he was crying before, he was positively sobbing now, unable to control the rush of emotions going to his head. It also didn’t help that Nicky had gotten more attractive since the first time he met him, a light stubble coating his cheeks alongside longer curls. He felt his heart trying to burst out his chest at the sight, and it took a lot of willpower to stop himself running to the Canadian there and then.

It was only after the event though, that he got the chance to talk to Nicky, both tucked away in the park near the aquatic centre, the sky burning orange above them. It was his first chance to get away from all the crowds, wanting to take a moment for himself amongst the chaos and everyone wanting his attention.

“Want to get out of here?” Nicky asked him after a few minutes of peaceful silence, both just content to sit under the Parisian sky, happy within the other’s company.   
  
“Anywhere’s good as long as I’m with you.” George returned, too worn out to even care that he was pouring his heart out at this point. He couldn’t run any further, Nicky deserved to be loved by him, and selfishly, George knew he deserved to be loved too.

“There’s a metro stop about 5 minutes from here. We can catch it into the city centre, I know the perfect spot.” Nicky replied to it, offering George his hand as he stood up. George took the offer, entwining his fingers with the Canadian, who just smiled gently at him, cheeks dusted pink from blushing.   
  
“You’re brilliant.” George told him moments later, returning the same smile, following his lead towards the station.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive at the metro, buying a 1 way ticket into the city centre. It was obvious that people did recognise both of them as they boarded the train, but to George’s relief nobody stopped him for a photograph or autograph, too caught up with their own issues. It did give him the opportunity to lace his fingers with Nicky’s again, and the Canadian gently smiled, giving George a firm grip as they continued the train ride into town. 

It took about 20 minutes for the train to reach the station, Nicky telling George to get off, temporarily removing his grasp on the Brit’s hand. He didn’t really want to let go but he had no real choice, the chance of getting seen much greater in one of the busy public spaces, especially one so close to one of Paris’ major landmarks. 

The orange sunset still bloomed across the sky as they emerged from the station, onto the streets of Paris once again. It almost illuminated all the buildings, giving them a slight glow, and George’s heart melted at the sight, everything looked perfect. With a hopeful look, Nicky once again offered George his hand, and without hesitation, George took it, following Nicky as he began to walk forward, to the Place du Trocadéro, only a few hundred metres away.

The moment he saw the full view, George was captivated, the Eiffel Tower standing there in front of him, framed perfectly by the peach sunset. The Seine swept below them too, and the glow from the sunset added to the beauty displayed before him. But nothing could ever get as beautiful as the man beside him.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Nicky mused, looking out towards the city, moving his hand to wrap it around George’s waist.    
  
“It really is, yeah.” George replied, almost stunned by the view. He’d been all over the world with his career, but nowhere had ever been as wonderful as this, nowhere quite had the magic Paris did.

“But it’s not as beautiful as you.” Nicky told him, turning to face George as he gently spoke, watching as George turned to face him, a shy expression resting on his face.

“But have you looked at yourself? I’m nothing compared to you.” George replied, this time reaching out to take both of Nicky’s hands into his own. The sunset illuminated his features just that much more, and George could hardly believe his luck, Nicholas was damn attractive. The extra stubble only served to intensify his feelings, alongside the longer curls, and at this point, George could only think of one thing he wanted to do, something he was pretty sure Nicky knew as well.   
  
“You’re perfect, George, and I don’t know why you can’t see that.” Nicky gently told him, running his thumb over the side of George’s palm, a small smile resting on his face, cheeks dusted pink from his blush.

“Thank you, Nicky.” George offered in return, unsure of what to say. He’d hoped that this moment would come, but in all honesty he didn’t know how to act, hoping that he’d run on instinct like most things, reacting to the advances that Nicky made.

“Do you mind if I?” the Canadian asked, hope in his voice. George’s breath caught in his throat at the words, knowing  _ exactly _ what he was implying.    
  
“Please do.” Was all George could manage before Nicky leant in to close the gap, kissing him firmly. 

It was all George could’ve imagined and more, and it made him fall in love once more. Nicky certainly knew how to kiss, and George was enamoured with him, still chasing the high after they pulled apart.  _ God, kissing Nicky felt good. _

“I really, really love you.” George stuttered out before he could regret it, looking down towards the ground instead of at familiar brown eyes. It was right then that he realised he never wanted to let Nicky go, especially in this moment under Parisian skies, his features illuminated by the sunset.

“Good, because I love you too.” was all Nicky replied, George leaning in for another kiss soon afterwards. He didn’t care if anyone was watching at this point, they could watch all they wanted, this was the city of love after all, and he finally had his man, after a while of waiting. And whilst it would never compare to the feeling of Olympic gold… well, kissing Nicky came a close second.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it this far then please please please let me know how you found this fic, kudos & comments would mean so much to me :)


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